Romac
by GelibeanH20
Summary: The Girl with No Name is wandering aimlessly amongst the wreckage of our once bountiful civilization. Insanity has claimed her mind, and she wishes for nothing more dearly than to find a companion and to lose herself in her stories. Latching onto the first person she finds, they're not thrilled with being her partner in survival. Collab fic with my friend Amy. Rated for gore etc.
1. Chapter 1

She was breathing hard. Running as fast as her legs could carry her. And there was a very good reason for that. Right on her tail, there was a worm with more teeth than she could count, but then she wasn't that good at counting anymore. She _was_ very good at drawing and writing, but basic math wasn't her strong point. The number of teeth probably didn't matter—either way, she was being hunted down.

BAM!

She squealed at the loud noise, panting into her mask, her goggles fogging from perspiration. When she risked a glance back she stopped in her tracks. The worm was dead. Green blood spattered a wrecked car, its windows shattered, as well as the sidewalk. The creature lay limply on the ground and . . . was it smoking?

She turned and ran away as fast as she could. She didn't want to know what had killed the worm. What if it killed her?

"Calm . . . down . . ." she gasped to herself. "Think . . . positive . . . and don't . . . die . . ." She held tight onto her backpack straps and broke into a sprint, ducking into a collapsed alleyway and scooting into the corner. She sucked in air, catching her breath. To calm herself, she pulled out a book with the words _Harry Potter _printed on the cover. She flipped open to a page and read the first thing that she saw: "_Harry—yer a wizard_."

She smiled. Books always took her mind off of things. Drawing books, writing books, story books—she always had three in her trusty backpack. A sketchbook, a notepad and a novel. Sometimes she had more. She'd gotten pretty strong from always carrying those things around, which came in handy for, say, running away from giant mutated worm monsters. In another pocket, there was a stainless steel mechanical pencil, a fine tip pen and an eraser. The eraser was small, she was running out of lead and ink, but occasionally she would find some more. Usually from an old Staples store.

She snapped her book shut as the sound of footsteps crunching through the wreckage came to her ears. Another worm? In the alley, there'd be nowhere to run. She stuffed the book back in the bag, pulled out a battered stuffed cat and hugged it to herself.

"It's okay, Thing," she whispered to it. "It'll go away, soon. It'll go away. . ." She closed her eyes and was silent, doing her best not to whimper until the footsteps passed.

"What was that, Thing?" she asked her toy when the noise faded away. "Was that a person?"

The toy stared back at her with its blue plastic eyes.

She sighed and stood, brushing dust off her green cargo pants. When she turned to look behind her, she saw the back of an antique store. She shivered as an icy wind blew through the barren alleyway.

"Come on, Thing," she murmured. "Let's get out of the cold."

She grabbed her things and opened up the back door, slipping inside with barely a squeak from the splintered floorboards. Hardly anything was intact, as expected. Nothing was left of the furniture but ash. However, in the corner she spotted something—a box of records and a gramophone. She tiptoed up to the records and picked one up. The only other time she had seen one of these was on a trip to the museum, back when there were many people and she'd had a name.

She brushed the ash from it. It appeared to be relatively unscathed. The faded words _Cab Calloway _stared up at her from the sticker in the middle. Curious, she walked over to the gramophone, put the record on it, put the pin down and turned the crank. Tinny sounds began to squawk from the horn on top of it. They had a distinct rhythm to them and brought back vague memories of hazy summer nights, when it wasn't so cold and dark all the time. A voice began talking in a funny way, the pitch sliding up and down.

Oh. Music.

"It's been such a long time," she said, smiling a little. "Hasn't it, Thing?"

She clutched the stuffed cat to herself and began humming along to the tune, swaying back and forth. Eventually, she forgot about turning the crank and skipped out of the wreckage of the building, dancing with her cat and singing at the top of her lungs.

"_Well, it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swiiiiiiiing!_" Spinning in joyous circles, she continued to dance until she toppled helplessly over, laughing at the sky.

CRUNCH!

Music and dancing forgotten, she sat up quickly. "Who's there?!"

She turned her head and found herself staring at the point of a sword—a rather sharp one at that.

"Hands up!"

Her gaze travelled upwards. In front of her stood a girl with long, messy black hair, a thick canvas jacket and a very angry look, brandishing a sword at her.

"Why?" she asked innocently.

The other girl's expression darkened further as she groaned. "I'm robbing you, you idiot! Hands up!"

"I haven't got anything," she said, rubbing her cold fingers. "I ate the last of my food."

"Then give me your mask."

"No. I'll get radiation poisoning."

"Open your bag."

She slipped her arms out of the straps and unzipped it. The black-haired girl peered in expectantly, but then her face fell. "Books? You're saying that's all you've got?"

"And Thing," she said, holding up her stuffy. "Isn't that right, Thing?"

The other girl rolled her eyes. "Wonderful. Another one gone batty."

She stood and zipped up her bag. "I'm not crazy!"

"Are you sure?" the girl asked, spinning her epee in her fingers. "Are you sure that being alone for all this time, coupled with frolicking in a bed of radiation, hasn't driven you insane?"

"No! Of course not! Isn't that right, Thing?"

The other girl sighed. "I really shouldn't be having anything to do with you. Goodbye." She turned and started to walk away.

"Wait!" She ran up to her and stopped her, spreading her arms wide. "What's your name?"

The girl sighed again. "I suppose it doesn't matter, since you're not at all dangerous. I'm Aderyn."

She grinned. "Hi! I'm. . ." She paused, her brow furrowed behind her aviator goggles. "Um. . . w-what's my name again?" She looked upwards at the permanently cloudy sky, nose wrinkled in concentration.

"You are very, very sad," said Aderyn.

"No, I'm not!" she retorted, defensive.

"You can't even remember your own name."

"I can read really well, though," she said. "And write and draw. What can you do?"

Aderyn was looking increasingly uncomfortable with this turn of events. "I . . . I fence."

"I can't fight at all, but I'm pretty good at running and hiding."

She tried to push past her, all patience seemingly gone. "Move."

She grabbed onto her legs and Aderyn promptly tumbled into a large pile of snow.

"Watch it!" she snapped, shaking the white powder out of her dark hair. "Leave me alone!"

She gave her a pleading look. "You're the first person I've seen in. . . in. . . I'm not sure how long. I'm not keeping track, anymore."

Aderyn tried to kick out from her position in the snow. "Let go!"

Relenting, she sat back on her hands and sighed. "Can you help me find my name, at least?"

A blank stare. "I'm sorry?"

"My name! I've lost it and I can't find it again! Will you help me?"

"In your dreams." Her legs now free, Aderyn floundered in the snow bank.

Her eyes narrowed behind the lenses of her goggles. "I'll sic Thing on you if you don't help! _And _I won't stop bothering you!"

She succeeded in getting to a sitting position. "Fine. Fine. As long as you leave me alone."

"Thanks!" she said with a grin. She stood up. "Let's find some food, too. I'm hungry."

"Get used to it," said Aderyn as she got to her feet. "We're in the same boat. Besides, the deal was that I help you find your name, not food."

"That's okay, I know where some food is. C'mon!" She skipped away, hugging Thing and singing "Soft Kitty" loudly. The sound echoed between the crumbling skyscrapers and concrete buildings.

Aderyn followed gloomily behind at a trudge.

The two of them soon reached a very large shopping mall, and the she ran inside without any regard whatsoever for its stability. Aderyn paused for a minute, listening, but when she didn't hear the sounds of things breaking or squeals of pain, she followed with caution. She found the girl inside, sitting on a beanbag chair and munching a sandwich. Her gas mask was off, revealing her to be a lot younger than she had initially thought. She looked about seventeen, as opposed to the twenty-something she'd been thought to be. Aderyn looked at her questioningly, and she pointed to a large freezer in the corner.

She swallowed and grinned, displaying slightly crooked teeth, but for some reason it looked playful, rather than vulgar. "The plastic preserved them," she said, holding up her sandwich.

Aderyn tilted her head, surprised. "No radiation here?"

"No clue!" She took another bite out of her sandwich, chewing with gusto. Swallowing, she said, "But it was one of the bigger ones, so . . . probably."

Her expression shifted to one of annoyance. "You're not very smart, are you?"

She looked insulted. "To the contrary. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I'm not one hundred percent sure of the safety of this particular area, but not dying is more important than not going insane."

Aderyn raised an eyebrow.

"Now tell me," she said, reclining on the beanbag chair. "Is one hundred a number, or a figure of speech?"

". . . a number."

"Oh. I forgot. I get stuck at forty nine."

"And the next one after that is fifty," Aderyn said, taking off her gas mask to reveal an explosion of freckles before wandering over to the broken freezer.

"Oh," she said as Aderyn grabbed a sandwich. "I always thought it was sixty. Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Oops! My bad." She took another chomp out of the peanut butter sandwich. "Mm . . . I love peanuts."

Aderyn sighed, but she was starting to seriously consider joining up with her. She had led her to food, it would be good to share body heat with someone on these icy nights, and she could serve as a distraction for the worms. Additionally, who knows what else she had hidden?

_She's also a good source of entertainment_, Aderyn thought, observing as the girl started talking to her stuffed cat again.

She looked up and grinned boyishly, her short brown hair falling into her eyes. "I think this is going to be fun . . ." She paused. "Um, what's your name, again?"

"Aderyn."

"Sorry. I'm SUPER forgetful. If I'm to remember a thing I have to write it down." She looked around. "That's how come I remember this place." She turned back to her. "Anyway, this'll be a blast! I . . . I haven't had a friend in a really long time. . . except for you, of course!" She smiled down at Thing.

Aderyn looked a little suspicious. "So . . . We're friends, now?"

"Yeah." She looked up, tilting her head. "Why?"

"Well . . . that's okay, I guess."


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you have any idea whatsoever where you're going?" Aderyn demanded, already certain what the answer would be.

"Nope!" Ahead of her, the crazy girl skipped gaily through the snow, trying (and failing) to snatch snowflakes out of the air. _Those are probably radioactive, too_, thought Aderyn gloomily as she trudged along behind, feeling dismal. If one got on that idiot and she got radiation poisoning from them, it was her own fault.

To her left and right, crumbling skyscrapers loomed, their windows cracked and grimy. The decrepit road stretched out in front of them, massive cracks from the perpetual winter weather zig-zagging across the chipped tar and yellow paint. She reached up over her shoulder to touch the grip of her épée, making sure the black cloth cover was securely fastened around the blade. If it got rusty and snapped, it would be next to useless to her, except maybe as a doorstop or a paperweight. There hadn't been that many stores that had sold fencing equipment, even before everything had gone _kaboom_. And somehow a length of pipe just wouldn't cut it, for obvious reasons.

The bitterly cold wind stung her face with a fierce bite akin to a whip wherever it was exposed, unprotected by her ski goggles or her mask. A gust of wind lifted her hair up, and she shivered and shoved her hands into her pockets. "Mystery Girl," she called. "Just where, exactly, do you expect do find your name? And how am I supposed to help you?"

"Well, my name's not Mystery Girl." She squinted into the sky. "I know _that_. That's a start, isn't it?" The girl held out her gloved hands, watching as delicate specks of snow perched on her palms before melting into nothingness. "You know, I can't fight at all, and you have a pointy metal stick. You're lucky. I'm glad you're my friend."

"It's called an épée. Learn it." Aderyn sighed, stuffing her hands deeper into her jacket. _I'm the bodyguard. Wonderful._ "Remind me again why I'm here."

"Because we're friends!"

She chose not to respond to that. "And we're just walking in no particular direction, am I right?"

"Yup! But I'll bet we'll find my name wherever we're going!"

_Well, _that's _certainly encouraging_.

The crazy girl twirled around a couple metres ahead of her, seemingly unaware of the icy headwind. She hummed and sang snippets of song to herself, or possibly to . . . Thing. It was probably supposed to be a cat, but it was tattered and dirty, the whiskers on one side of the face singed. Aderyn figured she probably didn't want to know how _that_ had happened.

Then she stopped. Out of the corner of her eye, she'd spotted a flash of movement. Another worm? Or something even worse than that?

"Mystery Girl," she hissed. The girl didn't hear her. Aderyn groaned, and despite wanting to remain quiet, she gained her attention by calling, "Hey!"

"Huh?" She turned around. "What's going on?"

Aderyn's hand slowly went to her épée's grip. "Something's watching us. Keep it down."

"Is it another worm?" The girl looked around, her voice hushed only minimally. "Because I hate worms. I can't count their teeth, but then I'm not very good at counting and—"

"Do you ever shut up?" Aderyn growled, slowly sliding her sharp sword from the cover slung across her back. "Because now would be a good time to start."

"I do occasionally stop talking, yes, usually when I'm asleep."

"Then why don't you _try_ it right now?" She was rapidly losing the little patience she'd gathered since first meeting the girl. A flicker of movement on the roof of a building drew her eyes, but when she looked, she saw nothing there. But there was no mistake, something had been up there, and it was blue.

"There's no way I'm going insane too," she muttered.

"But you're talking to yourself," pointed out the crazy girl in a dreamy tone. She was now looking up at the sky, not really paying attention.

"What did I say about shutting up?" Aderyn said through gritted teeth. She hefted the sword, feeling its familiar weight in her hand. There was something nearby, that was certain. And knowing the wastelands, it wasn't friendly. "Mystery Girl," she said, "I don't suppose you have any other friends out here?"

The girl turned a confused stare upon her. "Didn't you just tell me to shut up?"

"Just answer the question!" Her eyes flicked from side to side. Something was making her uneasy, and this time it wasn't the cold.

"No . . ." She looked a little sad now, her gaze directed down at her feet, her arms wrapped snugly around her tattered stuffed animal. "You and Thing are my only friends. Why?"

_I somehow expected that_. "I just told you; we're being watched."

"Oh." The crazy girl inched closer, looking curious. "What is it?"

"If I knew, I'd be doing something about it!" Aderyn snapped.

The girl looked taken aback. "Sorry. There's no need to be mean."

Aderyn groaned.

There was a scrape from an alleyway, the sound of cloth dragging over the ground. She felt her fingers instinctively tighten on her weapon's grip.

"What was that?" The girl went into a crouch, and she almost lost her balance simply doing that. "I-is it a worm? Or something else?"

"Just a rat, maybe?" said Aderyn hopefully. _As if. There's no way I'd get that lucky._ "I'm going to see what it is," she said in spite of her better judgement.

"You're the one with the pointy metal stick. Good luck! Please don't die!"

"It's an _épée._" Aderyn adjusted her ski goggles with one hand as she turned away from the girl and approached the alleyway with slight trepidation. There were lots of things out here in the wastelands that could overwhelm an ordinary human, even a skillful one armed with an épée. The shadows clung to the walls like black wool, white flecks sprinkling the muddy grey ground. She took a few tentative steps into the alley. Nothing moved but a few snowflakes spiralling down from the overcast sky. Inhaling, she took another step into the alleyway—

"Anything there?"

"GAH!" Aderyn spun around, her sword's tip flicking upwards to rest on the red and gold scarf of one surprised girl.

"Did I do something wrong?" Mystery Girl asked, confused.

She let out her breath. "Are you crazy? No, actually, don't answer that. I already know the answer. The point is I nearly skewered you like a shish kebab!"

The little she could see of the girl's face drained of colour. "There's—"

"Don't you get it? I could've killed you!"

"Um—"

"And then where would you be? How would you find your name then?"

She made a squeaking noise. "I don't think—"

Aderyn was about to say more when a shadow loomed over her. A cold finger ran down her spine. Not good. She bit her lip under her mask.

"Mystery Girl," she said quietly.

"Yes . . . ?"

"Can you tell me what exactly is standing behind me _without_ screaming, fainting, or running away?"

"I can . . ."

"Then do it before I turn around."

"Um . . ." She took a step backwards. "It starts with an H. It's scary. And it's about two feet away from you."

Aderyn almost dropped her sword. _Starts with an H—oh, don't tell me . ._ . She swivelled her head slowly around, knowing she was going to regret doing it.

Behind her was a creature shrouded in a long, dark tattered cloak, its face something that may have once been a gas mask, though it was hard to tell. Three round eyes created a triangular shape on its forehead and two pairs of jagged claws clacked menacingly together as it silently towered over her. A hunter-wraith.

_. . . Oh. . . No_. "Okay. We are now going to run away. We are going to do it calmly, and you are _not_ going to panic. Unless you'd like to see how long you can survive against it."

"Whatever you say," said the girl, backing away slowly. "Personally, I think running away is a good idea."

"Then _do_ it!" Aderyn dug her feet in and leapt forward, grabbing the girl's arm with her left hand as she launched herself into a sprint. Dragging her along, she heard only silence behind them, but that didn't mean anything. Hunter-wraiths made no sound and glided noiselessly over the ground, searching for prey. Somehow, that made them even more frightening.

"Can't you kill it or something?" demanded the girl breathlessly. "You have your stick!"

She wasn't about to waste breath explaining again. "You think I can kill something like that?"

"Well, I know I can't!"

Aderyn's feet pounded the ground. She glanced backwards, and her heart skipped a beat. The wraith was in fast pursuit, pincers still clacking together with a sharp, alarming snapping sound.

Wide eyed and doing her best not to panic, Aderyn faced forwards again and cried, "We have to hide somewhere!"

"Do you have somewhere in mind?" panted the girl.

She looked up at a half-demolished skyscraper. "It's probably crazier than you are, but yes, I do."

It took a moment for that to sink in. "Hey!" she said indignantly.

Aderyn pulled her into the building, rubble crunching under her boots. "Go upstairs and wait for me."

The girl balked. "What're we doing?"

"Go!" She shoved her up the crumbling steps before peeking outside. The wraith had seen them enter the building. It would've been nice if it hadn't, but then not a lot of nice things happened to her these days. The door was barely functional, but it was better than nothing. Grabbing its rough edge, she yanked it into place and wedged it with a length of metal from the floor. She could hear the girl's feet thudding up the steps above her, not taking the care to be silent. Her épée's blade gripped in her left hand just above the guard, she raced after, taking the steps two and three at a time. No time to sheathe the thing, and she might need it later.

"Mystery Girl!" she called upstairs.

"Yes?" echoed down the answer.

"How high are you?"

"Pretty high, if you ask me!"

Very helpful. "Find a window!" she panted out, jumping over a gap in the stairs. A muffled _boom_ and a crunching noise from the ground floor told her that, in fact, the door had done nothing but slow _her_ down. _Damn it_. The hunter-wraith had gone through that makeshift barricade like paper.

Her legs and lungs burning and her heart thudding like a drum, Aderyn rounded the corner and almost crashed into the girl as she peered out of a window, fragments of glass scattering the floor and sticking out of the frame, reminding her uncomfortably of a worm's mouth.

"Why do we need a window?"

"To escape." She lifted a leg to kick away the rest of the glass before using her épée to clear the frame of any remaining shards.

"I'm not jumping all the way down!" The girl took a step away. "I won't be able to walk with broken legs, you know."

"We're not jumping to the ground, idiot!" Aderyn pointed at the nearby building, its roof below theirs. "We're jumping to that."

"How is that better?" cried the girl.

"We have a chance of living that way, so if you do enjoy living, and I'm pretty sure you do, then follow me!"

Before her brain could process just how stupid this idea was, she placed one foot on the windowsill, took a breath, and hurled herself into thin air. Cold wind rushed past as she fell, and she almost felt relief that she'd managed the jump. The worst was over.

In the end, the landing was actually the worst part.

She hit the rooftop with both feet, the impact sending a wave of pain up her spine. Crashing to the ground in a roll, she bounced a couple of times before coming to a stop, her forehead cracking against the cement. She lay still for a few seconds, her body complaining loudly and her ears ringing, before pushing herself onto her hands and knees.

"Ouch," she muttered. _Not one of my brighter ideas, I'll admit_.

"LOOK OUT!"

Aderyn barely had time to look up and think, _Oh god_ before the girl landed on her and she was smacked back down flat.

"_Oof_." All the wind was knocked from her lungs and, for the second time, she lay still. Would something else would come flying down from the sky? An anvil, maybe?

"That was terrifying! I felt like Indiana Jones in that second movie!" the girl exclaimed, gasping for breath. "Um, Aderyn?" She poked her shoulder. "Are you . . ."

"_Get. Off. Me_. _NOW._"

"Oops." Clambering off, the girl brushed dust from her pants. "Sorry, Ad."

"Ugh . . ." Aderyn got to her feet as well, searching for her sword. Picking it up, she grabbed the girl's arm and dragged her over to behind what used to be a heating system.

"_Now_ where are we going? I don't like running around all over the place," she complained.

"Shush." She peered around the corner. The hunter-wraith glided past the window and she jerked her head back, her heart racing again. After a few moments had passed and she didn't hear anything, she chanced another look. Nothing. "I think we're okay," she said eventually. "Still, we should wait a few minutes before going down."

The girl shivered as a gust of wind rattled across the roof. "If you say so . . ."

Silence fell like a curtain between them. Now that the majority of the excitement was over—hopefully—Aderyn could feel her bruises making themselves known. She shifted a little on the rubble and winced at the dull, achy pain that spread throughout her ribs. _She's heavier than she looks, that's for sure_.

Catching her breath, she looked up at the overcast sky, a blank canvas of grey stretching from one horizon to the other. A few lone snowflakes whirled down and landed on her upturned goggles, making her blink instinctively. Another gust whooshed over the rooftops, bringing with it a dusting of ash and snow, and she slid her sword cover off her back, slipping it over her blade. Just as she did this, the rustle of pages came to her ears, and she turned her head to see the crazy girl poring over a thick book.

"What're you doing?" she asked sharply, irritable after another desperate clamber for ownership of her life.

The girl looked up, surprised, her eyebrows raised.

"Reading," she said, as if that explained everything.

She sighed. "Why're you reading, then?"

"Don't you like stories?" the girl asked, brow furrowed.

A shrug. Stories weren't high on her priorities list.

She gave Aderyn a look that made _her_ feel like the crazy one. "What do you DO with yourself?"

Aderyn sighed and rolled her eyes behind her goggles. "All right, for the sake of argument: Will books make you immune to radiation? Will they warm you on a cold night? Make your stomach stop growling? All they do is take up room and weight."

"They do make great pillows." She giggled. "Just kidding. But without books, what would I do? As long as I'm stuck here, I need some way to entertain myself. How else would you do that when you're all alone?" Then she smiled. "Except for you and Thing, of course."

"But they're not _necessary_. . ."

Crazy girl looked at her sadly. "They are for me. They can take your mind off of life, make you forget. I've buried myself in books so deeply, I can't even remember my own name, but I can't forget my family, friends, or the life I had before the world collapsed upon itself." She looked down at her book. "I wish I could forget," she mumbled. "I wish I could forget it all. . . Then I wouldn't feel so bad. . ."

Aderyn didn't know what to say when a tiny pool of tears formed in the bottoms of her goggles. Crazy girl pulled them away for her face for a millisecond to drain them, then she sighed and buried her nose in her book again, trying to regulate her breaths.

She was silent for a few minutes, until crazy girl didn't look quite so sad anymore, then got to her feet abruptly, sword in hand.

"All right," she said, taking on an authoritative tone, "The hunter-wraith's probably gone by now, looking for a tastier snack. Time to move."

"Do we have to?" the girl asked, not taking her eyes off the book.

She looked down at the girl, then up at the sky. It was early evening, but she'd had enough excitement for the day. "Fine. But if we hang around here, that wraith might come back." She turned away, closed her eyes for a moment, letting the weariness and the pain sweep over her. Then she pushed it to the back of her mind and looked back in time to see crazy girl put her book away.

"Okay," said Aderyn. "Let's go."

Warmth. At least, relative warmth compared to the bitter iciness of night in the wastelands. Flames crackled and leapt into the air, and on the opposite side of the fire, the girl was lying on her belly, stared into the shifting orange, entranced.

Letting out her breath, Aderyn moved her épée into a more comfortable position on her shoulder. She was sore and scraped from her stunts earlier today, and her sword hadn't fared much better. Running a thumb over one of the many scratches decorating its guard like battle scars, she turned her face upwards. They were inside a building, but the sky was visible through the gaping holes in the roof—not that there was much to see. The night sky, as always, was dark and sullen. As she watched, sparks floated upwards through the gap directly above them, drifting this way and that before winking out of existence. She closed her eyes, and asked herself for the thousandth time: _What am I doing here?_ She had other things she had to do, other things she had to find, and those things certainly did not include an insane person's name. But now she'd managed to get herself stuck with the aforementioned crazy person as a bodyguard, of all things. What would she even be protecting the girl from? Worms she probably wouldn't be able to fight off, and definitely not a hunter-wraith. Today had proved that. The only thing she could be a proper bodyguard against was a rat. In the end, maybe she should just slip away quietly sometime. The girl was crazy anyway. She wouldn't miss her.

"Pretty . . ."

Aderyn opened her eyes to see the girl reaching a tentative finger out to the fire, the flames reflecting in her aviator's goggles. "Don't touch that!" she snapped, and the girl paused.

"But it's glowy!"

She rubbed her forehead, exhausted both in body and in patience. "Ugh, fine, _get_ burned, see if I care." As she watched the girl attempt to poke a coal, she groaned mentally. There was no way she could let this girl go off on her own. It was a miracle she'd survived this long already. She was no wimp—probably from dragging all those books around everywhere—but she was no martial artist either. Aderyn closed her eyes again. _Looks like I'm stuck with her a little while longer_.

There was a small yelp and the hiss of flames.

"_Hey!_ Don't touch that!"

Mystery Girl had her finger in her mouth and she looked apologetic. "Sorry. I guess it doesn't like being poked."

Yeah. She needed help, and from the looks of things, Aderyn was the only one around to give it to her.

_Still . . . things could be worse. "Every cloud has a silver lining_."

_. . . isn't that right, Galvin?_


	3. Chapter 3

Aderyn felt that she must have fallen asleep at some point by the fire, because when she woke up, the sky was light grey between the cracks in the building's roof and the fire was almost dead, except for a few orange cinders nestled in the ashes. She brushed off the dusting of snow that had formed on her shoulders during the night and stood, stretching and working the kinks out of her tired, bruised muscles (No thanks to her friend over there). She yawned, then looked down to see Mystery Girl, asleep. She was clutching both Thing and a thick book to her chest.

Either out of curiosity, boredom, or a mixture of both, Aderyn wandered over to her and tried to pry the book out of her grasp. A hand clapped onto her forearm, making her tense, but its owner was still fast asleep, her breath whistling slightly through her mask. Aderyn peeled the fingers off and slipped the book out of her grip. The Mystery Girl furrowed her brow in her sleep. _Looks like she's having a bad dream, now_, she thought. Not entirely unexpected, considering where they were.

Aderyn prodded at the fire and threw a couple of logs in before settling down nearby to look at the book. It was titled, _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_. She flipped it open to a random page, then raised her eyebrows in surprise. Scrawled all along the margins and sometimes in the text, there was almost indecipherable writing, accompanied by a few doodles. Without anyone around to read what she had written, Mystery Girl's handwriting had deteriorated to the point where only she could read it. It almost looked like a made-up language.

Aderyn squinted at the handwritten text and managed to make out the following; _It's interesting that the Order of the Phoenix is a lot like the French Résistance during World War Two. Voldemort is Hitler, Death Eaters are Nazis, and I'm sure I could draw many more parallels if I thought about it. Both Hitler and Voldemort are very hypocritical, believing in purity of race while they, themselves were impure by their own standards._

Aderyn raised her eyebrows. Mystery Girl obviously had a lot to think about in her spare time.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" asked a voice from just behind her.

Aderyn felt her heart rocket up to somewhere around her throat and turned to see Mystery Girl peering over her shoulder at the book.

"Don't _do_ that!" she snapped, her fingers tight on the book's battered cover.

"Sorry," she said, not sounding too apologetic. "Did I scare you?"

"A bit, yeah," she said sharply.

Mystery Girl pointed at the notes she made in the book. "But it is interesting, isn't it? I love history. Well, not modern history. I don't like anything newer than a hundred years old."

Aderyn didn't feel the need to comment on this.

"Well," she said thoughtfully. "I like crime history. If the fallout didn't happen, I might have gone and been a detective, or whatever the Canadian equivalent of the FBI is. Or maybe I'd go into forensics."

Aderyn mulled that over for a few seconds, tilting her head. "Isn't that just looking at dead bodies?" To her, the girl didn't really look like the type that could handle a rotting corpse.

"Yeah. If I focus, they don't seem like humans to me. More like something that _used_ to be human, which isn't so bad. It's odd. Also, the dead don't talk back."

Aderyn smirked, though it was probably hard to tell under the gas mask. Shame. "Funny that you of all people should say that. Do you _ever_ shut up?"

"Sometimes." She titled her head. "What would you have done if the fallout didn't happen?"

"What?"

"What did you want to be when you grew up?"

This enquiry startled Aderyn, as she didn't much like personal questions, but instead of expressing this she shrugged. "Fencer, maybe. I'm not sure. I was only twelve when the fallout happened, and that was two years ago, so. . ."

"So you're fourteen, like me." Mystery Girl tilted her head. "I _think_ that's right. . . My math's not so good, you see, so—"

Aderyn cut her off. "You're _fourteen?_"

"Yes." The girl felt that this was a silly question, but she didn't say so.

"I thought you were eighteen or something," Aderyn said. She began to feel a little more sympathetic for the crazy girl, upon knowing that she was younger than she had thought. At first, she had just thought that she was a really stupid adult, then she thought that she was a fairly intelligent eighteen-year-old, now she thought that she's a. . . Well, she wasn't particularly sure _what_ she thought of her, now. There was obviously a lot more to this girl than met the eye.

Mystery Girl interrupted her thoughts then. "A fencer? Well, if building fences is what you like, I can't go against it."

Aderyn sighed. Her patience with this girl has been worn down to a thread, and they haven't even spent a solid twenty-four hours together. "Sword fighting, stupid."

Mystery Girl looked up at the sky. "Neat." Some wheels turned in her head as she tried to think of some famous sword-fighters. "Have you ever fought Captain Jack Sparrow? Inigo Montoya? Bill Gates?"

She turned her head to see Aderyn give her a half-perplexed, half-amused look. "No . . . The first two are fictional characters, and Bill Gates isn't anything _close_ to a fencer."

She felt her face grow warm. "Oops."

There was a pause from Aderyn. "Did you really think that Jack Sparrow and Montoya were. . . _real?_"

"_No_," she said, her voice jumping maybe an octave or so in pitch.

Aderyn saw through her lie. "How could you possibly think that they're real?"

She shrugged. "They seem real to me."

"Oh."

Another queer question popped into Mystery Girl's head, and she immediately said, "Can you play a musical instrument?"

Aderyn raised an eyebrow. "No. Well, I played piano when I was little, but that was a long time ago."

"I play piano, too," she said brightly. "And a little guitar. I've wanted to play saxophone for a year or so, now. I like how it sounds in my head."

"Uh-huh," said Aderyn. _Good luck finding a sax that works in this dump_. She didn't say that, though. There was a limit to the number of hopes and dreams she could crush per day. "It's been fascinating discussing our life stories, but we need to find something to eat."

"And my name!" she said with a grin.

"Whatever works." Aderyn shouldered her épée. "So, do you want food, or what?"

"Didn't you just throw some wood on the fire?" she asked, hoisting Thing into her arms with a yawn.

"Yes. . ."

"We can wait until it burns down, then. Can I have my book back?" she held out her hand.

Aderyn looked surprised to realize that she was still holding it. "Oh. Yeah. Sure." She dropped it into Crazy Girl's open hand.

She stowed the book away in her backpack, and produced a smaller book—the very first of the Harry Potter series—and flipped open to the first page to read aloud. The unusual part was that she started speaking before she even found the page.

"_Chapter One, the Boy Who Lived_," she said as she lazily turned pages, trying to find the right one. "_Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. . ._"

Aderyn sat silently as Mystery Girl read aloud to no one in particular. Perhaps she was reading to herself, to Aderyn, or maybe to Thing. Aderyn wanted to go look for food, but Crazy Girl didn't look like she was going to budge anytime soon, and she knew it would be a truly stupid idea to leave her alone, so she let her read the first entire chapter of Harry Potter—very expressively, too. She certainly gestured a lot and she did the voices of the characters.

"Hey, Mystery Girl," said Aderyn eventually, tapping her on the head. "We should go look for food, now. And we should also move on. The worms might find us."

She sighed dramatically and said, "Oh-_kay!_ I know where we could go!"

"It better not be anywhere dumb," said Aderyn, somehow suspecting that her wish wouldn't come true.

"No. Just up top on the highest floor of that building, over there." She pointed out of a hole in the wall, over to a particularly large skyscraper. She grinned widely. "I have a fort up there!"

"A . . . fort?"

"Yup!" She turned back to the fire. "I'll show you later."

"Is there food there?" asked Aderyn, trying not to sound too hopeful.

She shrugged. "Maybe a little." She tilted her head a bit, glancing towards her friend.

Aderyn looked like she didn't want to wait. "Mystery Girl, we need food _now_."

"The food's not going away."

"Yeah, it might! Someone else might steal it, a rat might get it, or a worm might eat your "fort"."

"Oh, it won't. It's too high up."

Aderyn suppressed a groan. "Okay. Fine. Whatever. I'm hungry, so I'm going to go look for food. Come along if you want."

"Alright." Mystery Girl stood, she looked down at her wrist, shaking the watch that was there. She looked over at her friend. "Do you want this?" she asked. "I don't pay much attention to the time."

"Fine."

The Girl with No Name slipped the silver metal watch off of her arm and passed it over to Aderyn.

"Nice watch," she muttered as she clipped it on. "Where'd you find it?"

"In a rainbow puddle," she said. "Where else?"

Aderyn paused. "A what?"

"A rainbow puddle. You know . . . a puddle . . . that's got rainbows in it." She looked over at her, puzzled by the fact that she somehow could not grasp the concept of rainbows in a puddle.

Aderyn again chose not to comment. "Rainbow puddle. Got it. Well, let's go."

The girl smiled, pulled her backpack on, and skipped off, whistling, and rather badly at that. She hopped over a few crumbling bricks, and out the door of the half-collapsed building. Aderyn followed her with caution, leaving the smouldering fire behind them.

Crunching footsteps of a full-grown man made their way through the collapsed buildings. His face was covered in a full gas mask with unusually expressive blue goggles, he had a gun at his hip and wore a white and black jacket. Charles Snippy trudged through the wreckage on another one of Captain's "missions": to find a rainbow puddle. Or, you know, survivors.

_What the hell is a rainbow puddle?_ he raged to himself. _Ugh, maybe I should just make a drawing of a rainbow and a puddle and bring it back to that nut job._

He turned his head and his eyes widened in surprise. A thin tendril of smoke was reaching up into the light grey sky to join the clouds like a stem merging with a leaf.

More survivors.

Snippy held tightly onto his gun as he sprinted over the wreckage, making a beeline for the fire. _Oh, God . . ._ he thought. _Please still be there . . ._

He ran into the building, and stopped just before stepping on the remnants of the fire. No one was around.

"Dammit!" he said aloud. "Looks like I just missed them."

He looked wildly around, hoping for a clue that would lead him to them—a clue, any clue! Then a sliver of red caught his eye. He looked down and picked up the piece of yarn. He tried to figure out where he'd seen it before . . . it slowly dawned on him then. That girl with the scarf! She was here! He'd seen her twice before, once when she was running from a worm—he'd shot it for her, but she took off before he could talk to her—and again with that other girl with the black hair and the sword. He was on top of a building and was about to yell for them, but then he saw the hunter-wraith. He was going to go to their aid, but last he saw of them was when they were being chased into a building. He thought that they had died. Evidently not. He wondered how they had managed that feat—hunter-wraiths were known for their persistence. Well, at least to him. There weren't a lot of people around to know it now.

He clenched his fist on the piece of yarn and stuck it in his pocket before looking around for boot prints in the snow. He saw two pairs of tracks leading out of the building—one going in a straight line like a normal person, the other twirling around and hopping and jumping from one place to another. He followed them with his eyes until he saw two figures—one wearing a red-and-gold scarf—ducking into a decrepit looking skyscraper.

He ran out of the building, following after them as fast as he could.

"This doesn't look very safe," said Aderyn as Mystery Girl led her up rickety stairs to the top floor of the building.

"I know," she said. "Too bad the elevator's not working. Mind the gap." She hopped over a hole in the stairs.

Aderyn carefully stepped over the gap. "Are we almost at the top?"

"Oh, you'll know when we get there."

"How?"

"There won't be any more stairs."

Aderyn sighed again as Mystery Girl ran up a few steps, got her foot stuck, yanked it out, then sprang up the last fifteen before emerging at the top. As Crazy Girl looked around, she saw that it was exactly as she had left it. Half the roof was caved in and all the windows were broken, but that had always been like that. In the far corner there was a teetering rampart of books, taller than she was. It formed a long wall, behind which was a pile of ragged blankets and pillows, as well as the only window in the whole building that hadn't had its glass broken.

She smiled and wandered over, humming to herself. Taking the thick book out of her backpack, placed it on top of her fortress, then selected another one instead that was called _Mark Twain; Four Complete Novels_. Her smile widening, she slipped the book into her bag.

Aderyn looked around the room, kicking aside broken glass. "So . . . This is your 'fort,' is it?"

"Yup," she said with a proud grin. "It's nice, isn't it? Ooh, come over here!" She slipped in through a crack in the towering pile of books, and nestled herself in the blankets. "Look out," she said, pointing to the window.

Aderyn edged between the books and knelt by the window, gazing outside. Her breath was almost stolen away. The window overlooked the remains of the crumbling city, the crumbling skyscrapers tilting at a haphazard angle, cars strewn in the street, ash and dust coating everything in a thick layer. Beyond that, though, were the wastelands—flat planes that stretched on as far as the eye could see, filled with absolutely nothing. Not a single thing survived out there. A shiver crawling down her spine, she turned her head towards the ocean, lapping gently against the shores of the city. The water was a dark, icy black and filled with mutants, so she generally tried to stay away from that area. Despite all this destruction, the view was beautiful. Peaceful. Tranquil, really. It was odd. She couldn't place why she thought of it that way when pretty much everything she'd ever encountered in it was out to kill her.

"Pretty, isn't it?" asked Mystery Girl, holding her backpack to her chest as she blinked sleepily.

"Yeah. . ." said Aderyn. "Pretty." She shook her head. "Why did you leave those blankets here? Why not take them with you?"

She blinked. "Then there'd be no room for my books," she said. "Obviously."

Aderyn rolled her eyes. "Sure there will. Just wrap the blankets around them."

The girl paused. She'd never thought of it that way before. Grabbing as many blankets as she could, she wrapped the books carefully in them before jamming them into her bag. They wouldn't fit, so she had to stomp on them a few times to get them in.

"See?" said Aderyn.

"Thanks." She paused. She heard a strange sound, kind of like a _THUMP, THUMP, THUMP,_ coming up the stairs. Her eyes went huge. "FORT LOCKDOWN!" she cried, leaping to her feet. Grabbing a large, jagged board, she heaved it over to the door of her fort, setting it down in the rubble.

"What exactly do you mean to do with that hunk of wood?" asked Aderyn, somewhat exasperated. She paused, listening. "Are those footsteps?"

"SHH!" said Mystery Girl loudly. "We're in LOCKDOWN! No one can get in, now!"

The thumps slowed down and turned into crunches as their owner came to the top step and entered the room. "Hello?" called a man's voice. "Anyone here?" He must've spied the "fort" because with a _crunch, crunch, crunch_, he came over to investigate. "Hello?"

Mystery Girl stayed silent, staring at the board as if she were willing it to turn into an iron door.

Aderyn growled something under her breath, stood, and pulled the board away from the door only to find a young man with blue goggles and a black-and-white jacket staring back at her. Immediately, she whipped out her sword and he his gun. They stared at each other, unmoving, for a while as the girl looked on, impressed.

"Ooh!" she said after a few moments, clapping her hands. "Staring contest! Who will win?"

They both turned and looked at her.

She pouted. "If you two are going to have a battle to the death, get out of my fort! Shoo! Shoo!" She jumped up, grabbed Aderyn by the shoulders and shoved her out of the book fort, closing the door behind her and surreptitiously peering over the edge to watch.

"Don't freak out, okay?" asked the newcomer. "I know how corny this sounds, but I come in peace."

Aderyn frowned, her sword point hovering at mid-chest. "Forgive me if I come off as rude, but you're pointing a loaded gun at me."

"You pointed your sword at me first," he argued. "Besides, my finger's not on the trigger, and that's the best I can do under the current circumstances." He twitched his finger to reiterate.

"He's got a point!" called the crazy girl.

Aderyn lowered her sword, but didn't sheathe it. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"They call me Snippy." He lowered his gun as well, but likewise didn't holster it.

"Who's 'they'?"

"Zee Captain's army."

"Army?" Aderyn raised an eyebrow. "There's no way that there's an army around here."

"Sorry," he said. "I meant an army of four."

"Four is this many, right?" said Mystery Girl, holding up three fingers.

"No," said Aderyn, unwilling to pursue the topic at the moment. "Four is this many." She held up the correct amount.

"Oh . . . that explains a lot."

Snippy raised his head in a way that made the cyan goggles on his forehead act almost as eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"She's nuts," she mumbled under her breath. "But I have a good reason for staying with her. She led me to food."

"I feel your pain," he said, sympathetic. "Two of the people I work with are insane, one of those two wants to kill me, and two of them caused the apocalypse."

Aderyn stared. "They WHAT?"

"Yeah," he said. "But Zee Captain threatened to sic Pilot on me if I shot him."

"Bummer," she said, but she frowned. "If they caused this mess, I don't think one pilot will keep me from making a few _literal_ stabs at them."

"We _must_ join forces," said Snippy. "It may be the only chance for the survival of the human race. What's your name?"

"Aderyn." She paused. "If you're talking repopulation . . ."

Either he didn't hear this or he pretended not to. He looked up at Mystery Girl. "What's your name?"

"I lost it," she said with a shrug. "Have you seen it? I think it had some letters in it. . ."

"Well," he said, knowing how to deal with insane people, "if you come with me, we may find it."

"Mm . . . nah. Aderyn's helping me find my name. Right?" She looked over expectantly.

Aderyn coughed. "Uh . . . yeah. Sure."

She grinned and looked back at Snippy. "See?"

Snippy rubbed his head. "Look," he said, frustrated, "I _have_ to take you back, otherwise Pilot is going to steal my mask filters while I sleep. _Please_."

"No thanks," said Aderyn, her sword point slowly drifting upwards. "You're _way_ too desperate for my tastes."

Snippy raised his gun again and pointed it at her. "Put your sword down."

Aderyn didn't move.

"What's that thing do?" asked Mystery Girl, pointing at Snippy's rifle.

"It can kill people," he said, keeping his eyes on Aderyn. He sensed that the crazy girl was completely harmless, but Aderyn could probably kill him if she felt the need for it. He took a step forward. "Sheathe your sword and hand it to me. Now."

She let out a heavy sigh and pulled the case off of her back. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Mystery Girl, who was silently moving the board out of the way of her "fort" entrance. The girl pulled her backpack on, then yelled, "CHARGE!" and made a mad dash for the door. She body-checked Snippy with a sound like two pieces of meat smacking together and he went sprawling.

"_Oof_," he grunted.

The girl sprinted to the stairs and started sliding down the railing. Aderyn followed, but she had only taken a few steps when Snippy grabbed her ankle and she hit the floor with a BANG. She looked back at him, his eyes pleading with her, but she kicked him in the face, scrambled to her feet—broken glass flying around her—and ran. She took the stairs two and three at a time as she ran down. Maybe Mystery Girl knew what she was doing when she slid down the railing?

Thumping footsteps came up from behind her, and she leapt out of reach, down onto the landing, spun around the corner and sprinted out of the building. She passed an upright garbage can, and a pair of eyes peeked out.

She stopped for a minute. _Did I just see—_

"Shh!" hissed Mystery Girl's voice. "I'm hiding!" She glanced over to the building entrance, yelped, then slammed the lid on the trash can.

Snippy didn't see Crazy Girl, but he did see Aderyn as she ran down the deserted streets. He sprinted after her as fast as his legs could carry him.

_Wow_, he thought as she kicked a car tire in his way, forcing him to hurdle the black rubber obstacle. _She's fast._

_But not fast enough_.

He lunged forwards and grabbed Aderyn's arm, yanking her back towards him. The two of them tumbled down onto the broken sidewalk, Snippy pinning Aderyn underneath him with his weight. He yanked her sword off of her as she fought him all the way, then pulled a length of rope from a pocket on his cargo pants. It only took him a few seconds to tie her hands behind her back and her feet together at the ankles.

_Great_, thought Aderyn bitterly as he put in the finishing knots. _From one lunatic to another._

"If you hadn't run," he said, standing and taking a deep breath. "You wouldn't be in this mess."

"I wouldn't be in this mess if you didn't tie me up!" she growled, trying to kick the knots free. "Let go of me!"

Snippy turned her over with his foot so she was facing up, then pointed her sword at her face. Aderyn froze. She knew exactly how sharp that thing was.

Snippy looked at her and she stared back. "I'm not going to kill you, nor am I going to break this." He looked it over. "Nice sword, by the way. I still can't let you have it, though." He sheathed it and slung it over his back with his rifle, then he stooped, picked Aderyn up and threw her over his shoulder.

"Get off me!" she snarled, trying to kick him in the face with little success. Snippy merely marched on, not bothered by the girl, so she growled under her breath and let herself dangle, her nose far too close to his gun for her liking.

"Would you happen to know where your friend is?" he asked, setting her down by the entrance of the building they had just run out of.

"No clue," she said half-truthfully. "She's probably wandering around somewhere, looking up at the sky." She glanced upwards at the now-falling snow.

Snippy sighed. "Damn. Well, I'll keep an eye out for food and Captain's stupid 'rainbow puddle'." He rolled his eyes behind his blue goggles.

Aderyn couldn't help but smirk a little at that. "Heh. Mystery Girl mentioned a rainbow puddle. She gave me a watch that she found in one. Good luck with your hunt, though. You'll probably be out here for a long time."

Snippy looked thoughtful. "Mystery Girl, huh? Hopefully she'll help me find one."

She grinned bitterly. "Yeah, but you've got to find _her_, first."

"Right, right," he mumbled, turning and trudging off to look for Mystery Girl. "You are just a ray of sunshine, aren't you?"

A few minutes later, when his footsteps and calls of, "Here, Mystery Girl!" couldn't be heard anymore, the lid of the garbage can lifted off and a familiar pair of eyes peered out.

"Hullo?" she turned her head, the lid of the trash can teetering precariously on her cap.

"About time," muttered Aderyn. Her wrists were raw from trying to squirm free.

Mystery Girl frowned. "How did I get in here?"

"Don't ask me."

"How am I going to get out without making a lot of noise?" she wondered. She leaned over the edge to see how far it was, but the garbage can tipped over with a CLANG and she fell out of it.

"Hurry! Untie me!" cried Aderyn. "He'll be back any minute!"

She looked at her, her head tilted. "Where's your pointy stick?"

"That guy took it! Now get me out of here!"

She paused for a minute, thinking. "Maybe if we ask nicely, he'll give it back."

"I highly doubt that," she snapped. "UNTIE ME!"

"What'll happen if we go with him?" she asked. "Maybe he'll give us food."

"Yeah, or maybe we'll turn into food! I can't trust anyone out here!"

"You can trust me," she said, feeling a little hurt by what her friend said.

"IF I CAN TRUST YOU, THEN UNTIE ME!" she yelled.

"No need to snap," she said, kneeling down beside her. She picked at the knots that tied her wrists together, then backed up so Aderyn could tackle the ankle bonds herself.

She never got that far, however, as just then Snippy came running up, gun at the ready. "What's going on here?" Still trying to free herself, Aderyn froze as the gun barrel swung over to her. He knelt down, one hand refastening her bonds, the other keeping the gun steadily pointed between her eyes.

"DAMMIT, MYSTERY GIRL!" she shouted as he got to his feet. "WHY COULDN'T YOU JUST HAVE UNTIED ME WHEN I ASKED?"

She blinked, confused. "I did."

She let out a peeved groan as Snippy hoisted her up again, his shoulder driving into her stomach. As he approached the girl he looked like he was about to grab her, but she jumped out of reach before he could make a move.

"Nope!" she said with a giggle. "No touchie!"

"Can you come with me?" he asked, almost pleading. "Please?"

She frowned. "Why should I?"

"Oh, I don't know!" called Aderyn. "Think about it for a few seconds!"

Ignoring this, Snippy racked his brains for a minute. _What if this was Captain . . . aha!_ "We have a pet unicorn. Would you like to see?"

She titled her head. "Does it eat people?"

He didn't quite know how to respond to this. "Uh . . . sometimes?"

"Yay!" She clapped her hands together and followed him as he began to trudge across the barren city.

"A unicorn?" grumbled Aderyn. "A unicorn is more important to her than me? That does it. Next time she jumps off a building, I'm getting the heck out of the way."

"Be quiet," said Snippy. "You wouldn't want something to happen to your sword, now would you?"

"I hate you so much right now."

"Which is why you can't have the sword."

The crazy girl twirled happily along, snowflakes settling daintily on her goggles. _Lucky me, two friends in two days. I wonder who I'll find next?_


	4. Chapter 4

"You jerk," growled Aderyn. "You will be _so_ sorry when I get my sword back."

"I'll make sure that happens in the fairly distant future," groaned Snippy. "Jeez, you're heavier than I thought. What do you eat?"

"What did you say, _Snipster_? I'll kill you right here and now!" Squirming as wildly as she could with her restraints, she attempted to kick him in the face.

"Bwah!" He ducked a swing of her boots. "Hey! I'm not all that happy about this, either! Cut it out!"

"Let me go!"

"No! You'll try to murder me, and then I'll have to shoot you!"

"Not if I murder you first, right?" she snarled. "Let. Me. Go!"

"I don't particularly care to test that theory right now!" Coming to an abrupt halt, Snippy dumped her unceremoniously on the ground and stretched his sore shoulders. "Okay, that's it. I am not carrying you anymore."

"So what're you going to do?" Aderyn rolled over, struggling to get into a sitting position. "Leave me here?"

"I'm beginning to wish that I could." He pulled a knife from the back of his belt and stooped, sawing through the bonds on her ankles and knees. "If you run, I _will_ shoot you, don't doubt that for a minute."

"I'll keep that in mind." She rotated her ankles as the blood began flowing again in her legs and she got to her feet, shaking them out. "I would thank you, but you're the one who tied me up in the first place. I'm not exactly a fan of that."

"What's going on?" The crazy girl skipped over with Thing in her arms, tilting her head like an inquisitive crow. "Oh, you can walk again! That's great!"

"I'm thrilled." Aderyn gave Snippy a sardonic grin. "Well, I am a little sorry to be losing my chauffeur, I guess."

"You're a riot." He sheathed his knife and slipped the long black rifle off his back. "I'm watching you, though. Run or try to take your sword, and—"

"I get it, _Snipster_." She rolled her eyes at him and began walking, the girl bouncing along with her, humming "happy birthday".

"I hate that nickname," he muttered, adjusting his grip on the rifle. He glanced cautiously at the buildings around them, checking for signs of any potential enemies, and walked after them.

"I'm tired," complained the girl, quite a while later—she'd lost track of the time, but then she wasn't very good at math.

"Aren't we all?" muttered Aderyn from just ahead of her. The girl squinted through her aviator's goggles at the sullen grey sky. Why was Aderyn always so gloomy? She wasn't the only one out there in the wastelands—not anymore, anyway.

"So what's your name?" she asked then, skipping over to the guy with the blue goggles. Behind the near-opaque cyan glass, his eyes flicked down to her.

"Huh?" he asked. "I thought I told you."

She giggled, sheepish. "I guess I must've forgotten."

"That's the fourth time now!" snapped Aderyn, still trudging forward. "Can you remember _anything_ at all?" She gave a small, caustic grin, though it didn't have much humour behind it. "Call him Snipster. Right?" She addressed the man now, and his shoulders stiffened.

"Hey!" the girl called back. "I'm not that bad. Right, Snipster?"

"Don't call me Snipster," he growled, and glared at Aderyn.

"Whatever you say, Snipster," she said, turning back to the front.

His fingers clutched the trigger of his gun tighter. "I may not kill you for now, but I will gag you, and let me just say I'm on the verge of shooting you anyway!"

Though it was hard to tell from behind, the girl sensed Aderyn's smirk grow the tiniest bit. "Ah ah ah. Don't think I'll be able to walk with a bullet in my body. Do you really want me to bleed all over you when you're carrying me?"

He cursed under his breath. The girl tilted her head, watching them as she trotted alongside.

"I think I win."

"Shut up."

"It's true, and you know it."

"Shut up."

"Getting annoyed, are we, Snipster? Wonderful. Now you know how—"

"SHUT UP!" he roared finally, coming to a halt as he thrust his rifle into the air. Squeezing the trigger, three shots cracked into the stillness, shattering the fragile quiet—or relative quiet—like glass. As the puffs of smoke drifted into oblivion in the echoes of the sudden noise, the girl stared at him, frozen in mid-step. Not good, she thought nervously.

"Just _shut up_," he snarled at Aderyn's back. "I can't think, much less keep a lookout for enemies with you babbling at me."

She turned her head to look at him, the bitter, taunting smile still mocking him. "And just how many beasties do you think you've attracted with those shots?"

He rubbed his temples with a gloved hand. "Just. Shut. Up. Now."

"Aderyn, leave him alone," spoke up the girl. "Can't we just get along?"

She kicked at a rock with a boot. "Sure. Let's all bake a cake out of rainbows and happiness, and everything will be fine. That's worked out great for me in the past."

"I got news for you, sunshine," spat Snippy venomously. "The world doesn't revolve around you."

The smile stretched as she turned her head, hair falling across her goggles. "I got news for _you_. As far as I'm concerned, it does."

The girl blinked, confused.

"Not that it matters," she said, facing forward again. "The world revolves around the last person alive, doesn't it?"

The girl and Snippy just watched as she set off, her hands still bound behind her back. As the girl observed, they tightened into fists, straining the rope. The girl traded a look with the Snippy. He sighed and lowered his rifle.

"What're you waiting for?" rang out Aderyn's acrid voice. "You said you wanted to get moving, didn't you, Snipster?"

He glowered, the flipped-up lenses of his goggles low and flat, and set off after her. "I _hate_ that nickname."


	5. Chapter 5

_Why?_ Snippy asked himself. _Out of all of the teenaged girls in the world, why did it have to be these two that survived the fallout?_

He stared hard at Aderyn's long, dusty raven hair as it trailed down her back, and the other girl's blackish-brown leather jacket. The former trudged ahead, looking irritable and gloomy, while the clearly insane girl lagged a little ways behind, hugging her tattered stuffed animal and looking up at the tall buildings as if admiring them.

"Are we there yet?" she asked, blinking owlishly.

"Does it _look_ like we're there?" snapped the black-haired girl—Aderyn—from in front.

"Well, I've never been to where we're going before, so I wouldn't know if we were there, would I?" She let out a yawn and put a palm over her gas mask filter as if to stifle it before nestling down in her gold-and-scarlet scarf. She dragged her feet a little bit as she walked, and gradually dropped back to walk with Snippy.

"How much farther?" she asked, eyes half-shut.

"Not far," he said, adjusting the dark rifle resting on his back. "A few more city blocks."

"Okay," she said sleepily, leaning into his arm.

"Hey!" He tried to shake her off, but she clung to him. She had stopped walking, too, and was now almost entirely supported by Snippy.

Aderyn paused and turned her head to look back at them. She grinned a little. "Hah, good luck with that. The chick's got a grip like steel."

"That was totally unnecessary," growled Snippy. He looked down at the girl and gave his arm an abrupt shake. "C'mon, wake up!"

"Huh? Whuzzat?" The girl jolted into an upright position, wide-eyed and alarmed. "What is it, Thing?" she asked her stuffed animal. "What did you say? Is there a worm coming?"

"Get a grip!" Snippy, wrenching his arm free, grabbed her shoulders. She froze for a moment, then relaxed with a sigh.

"Sorry," she said, her grasp tight around Thing. "I forgot that you guys were here." She smiled a little. "I'm happy about that, you know. It hasn't even been a day, and I've already made more friends than I have in the last . . . uh . . . well, since the fallout, anyway."

Snippy s goggles tilted up a bit. It couldn't have been easy, being crazy and alone. "I see . . . well, we need to move, anyway. The sooner we get back to the base, the better."

"Okay," said the girl, shifting Thing in her arms.

Snippy lifted his head to see Aderyn stealthily making her way towards an alleyway. Trying to escape, was she?

"HEY!" he yelled, slinging his gun off his back, releasing the safety, aiming, and firing in one smooth motion. A small explosion of concrete chips, dust, and ash accompanied the crack of the rifle as the bullet slammed into the ground, barely a foot away. She came to a dead halt.

"Get back here!" shouted Snippy, lowering the weapon.

"Why should I do that, Snipster?" she asked, the smile mocking him in spite of the loaded gun.

He would've thrown his rifle to the ground had it not been levelled at her chest. "DON'T. CALL. ME. THAT."

"Whatever you say, Snipster."

On the verge of screaming at her in earnest, only the thought of her expression at meeting Zee Captain and the rest of the idiots kept him from doing so. "I've had it up to here with you," Snippy snarled, holding his hand at eye—or perhaps goggles—level. He stomped over to Aderyn and forcefully grabbed her arm, dragging her towards the base.

"One more word out of you," he said, "and I'm ripping your mask off and feeding it and you to Photoshop."

"Who's Photoshop?" asked Mystery Girl, running up to them.

"A giant worm that would just _love_ to eat you guys if you don't follow along and shut up!" he bellowed, all patience gone.

Aderyn didn't seem more than bemused about what Snippy said, but the crazy girl looked tearful.

"That wasn't very nice," she said sadly, following behind her two companions. "Friends don't yell at each other, Snipster. . ."

"My name is not SNIPSTER!" he roared. "I'm Snippy! Charles Snippy! How hard is that to remember?"

She didn't say anything for a few minutes, which was unusual, and just as they were nearing the base she said quietly, "I can't even remember how to count . . . I can't remember my own name, either. D-do you really expect me to remember yours?"

Snippy cast a glance back at her, but he said nothing. Only the howl of the icy wind answered her.

Engie was well aware of the fact he wasn't very strong. He was smart, yes, but if he hadn't been living in the bunker before he joined Zee Captain's army, he would have been worm food within a day. At that moment, he was sitting on the hard, cold ground outside, keeping watch. He hadn't wanted to do this, but Captain had sent him outside, armed with a sparkly cowboy hat. He had tried to resist, but one thwack on the head from Pilot's iron pipe had served to change his mind.

He shivered, hugging his knees, the cowboy hat sitting on the snow beside him, and watched for any signs of movement. He didn't see anything that was or once was alive, save for the skeletons that lay scattered amongst the eerily vacant streets.

He heard crunching footsteps and loud, irritated voices. They sounded female. Odd. He hadn't seen a live female in his entire time in post-apocalyptia. He jumped to his feet and scurried into a sheltered corner, only to see a familiar face—or rather mask—come into sight. Snippy was trudging towards the base, and with him he had two girls. One appeared to be in her teens; the other looked much older but was bouncing around on her heels like a small child.

Engie quickly scrambled out of his hiding place and stood, trying to look professional, as he brushed off his pants.

"Charles," he said. "Who've you got there?"

"Hi!" piped up the bouncy one. "That's Aderyn, and I'm . . ." She paused, looking up at the sky. "Um. . . I forget."

The black-haired girl, presumably Aderyn, groaned. "Ugh, not this again."

"Where'd you find them?" asked Engie.

"Up in a skyscraper, Gromov," he said, tightening his grip on Aderyn's upper arm.

"That hurts," she muttered bitterly.

"No one cares," he snapped.

"What were you doing up in a skyscraper?" Engie asked Snippy.

"Followed them there," he said. "Is Captain back yet?"

"Yes," he said. "If he wasn't, do you really think that I'd be sitting out here in the cold?"

Snippy nodded his head in agreement. "Touché. Anyway, let's get them inside." A rough jab of his gun barrel into Aderyn's back sufficed to make her walk, and he gestured for Mystery Girl to follow along. She held onto the sleeve of his black-and-grey coat as they entered the unfamiliar building, Engie following behind. The building looked similar to all the others: dust, snow and decaying garbage had worked its way into every crack in the walls and floors; the stairs to the upper floor were broken down and dangerous-looking; gaps filled the stairway, and large chunks of the walls had crumbled away. There were bits and pieces of bones lying scattered on the dirty floors, footprints where four sets of feet had walked many, many times before, and in the corner of the landing there was a calendar, which Snippy scooped up, rolled into a tube, and tucked into his jacket.

When they came to the second floor, they saw another man standing in front of the door. He has on a full gas mask—a lot like the kind fighter pilots used—that covered his entire head, a thick black jacket, black pants and combat boots. In the wastelands, this normally would not have been too strange. However, he was also armed with a thick metal pipe. Aderyn eyed him warily as they neared him.

"Hey!" he yelled as they approached. "Don't go in! Captain is pondering, you shoes!"

Mystery Girl tilted her head a little, noting the long tube that came down from his mask. "You look like an elephant."

The man looked at her and Aderyn, surprised. "Where did these small shoes come from?"

"I'm not a shoe!" protested the crazy girl.

"Yes you are!" he argued. "You are a shoe, and you have no say about it because you are simply a shoe. Snippy doesn't have any clever arguments about this, either. Do you know why? Because he is a shoe, and shoes cannot come up with clever arguments, you jiggly slug!"

"I thought I was a shoe," said Mystery Girl, confused.

"You are a jiggly slug _and_ a shoe!"

"Fine!" she said, stamping her foot. "If I'm a jiggly slug-shoe, then you're a broken elephant jack-in-the-box! All you do is sit in your little box until someone comes along and turns the crank, then you sing a song and jump out! Then they shove you back into the box again because that's where you belong!"

The man opened his mouth ready to shout an insult at Mystery Girl – probably something shoe related – but Snippy quickly intervened.

"Pilot," he said firmly. "We need to see Captain."

"The great and mighty Captain is pondering!" the man said, tightening his grip on the pipe. "You can't go in!"

"He told me to report back to him when I found something of use," Snippy said.

Aderyn raised an eyebrow. "Of use? Please don't tell me that you're going to _use_ us for something."

Snippy muttered something under his breath, but at this point, he really didn't care what she said anymore. "C'mon, Pilot."

Pilot relaxed his hold on his pipe. "Fine, Snipster."

Snippy silently seethed as he shouldered his way past Pilot and pushed the door open. Aderyn and Mystery Girl stared at the tall figure standing by one of the broken windows, looking out. He had a military cap and held himself with the air of someone with great importance. The chill wind blew through the mostly vacant room, causing this long coat to flap behind him in a rather dramatic fashion. In his gloved hands, he held a mug of hot liquid – tea, perhaps – that was steaming profusely. The mug itself was white with a large black band around it that blocked out most of the pale colour, and on the black there was a large, crudely drawn red heart.

This was, if you hadn't already guessed, the Captain.

He turned slowly to face the newcomers and said, with a decisive Germanic twang in his voice, "Minions, why do you bother me at this time?"

Snippy poked Aderyn with his gun. "I found more survivors."

"Yes, I can see the obvious," he said. "I just ask why you stick your noses into my pondering time."

Snippy raised his eyebrows. "So I could show you them?"

"That's an adequate answer," said Captain, waltzing over to the group with a flourish. "Where did you locate these specimens of child-kind?"

"Where downtown used to be, in a skyscraper."

"Ah, that's a logical place to locate a child-kind. Good work, Snipster."

He glowered a little at the nickname, and Engie couldn't suppress a smirk. Pilot scowled through his green goggles at Snippy, resentful at the compliment.

Captain leaned in close to Aderyn, examining her. She felt an odd, unnerving shiver down her spine as he looked her over, but she wasn't quite sure why. In spite of this, she glared up at him, unwilling to appear intimidated.

"What is your name?" he demanded suddenly.

"Aderyn."

"_Full_ name."

"Aderyn Treharne."

"What is your favourite colour?"

Aderyn paused, her expression darkening further. "Why does it matter?"

"_What is your favourite colour?_"

"Um . . . brown?"

Captain didn't look pleased with this answer. "What, exactly, is the function of a rubber duck?"

". . . what?"

"How many weasels have you popped?"

"What?"

"When was your last haircut?"

"What?"

"Have you ever been to the Philippines?"

"WHAT?"

Snippy couldn't help but grin very widely behind his mask, satisfied that Aderyn had gotten what was coming to her.

"Can you battle any dragons?" asked Captain.

Aderyn frowned. "I'd try, but Snipster over there has my épée."

"Let us see this épée," said Captain, holding out his hand to Snippy.

"I wouldn't— " began Snippy.

"Ahem."

Snippy, looking irritable, reluctantly handed over Aderyn's weapon to his superior. Captain looked along it, bent the blade as far as it would go (Aderyn nearly jumped out of her own skin), flicked it to hear the ring of metal, balanced the handle on his forefinger until it fell off, twirled it in the air like a baton, then sheathed it.

"Very nice," he said to Aderyn. "You have been accepted into Zee Army of Awesomeness . . . barely. Feel free to celebrate your luck as you choose for the next five seconds."

Aderyn didn't move a muscle during this designated time. Her face seemed to be stuck at the "incredulous shock/horror" setting.

"Clearly you are standing in awe and amazement at your good fortune," said Captain. "Snippy, untie her."

"But Captain—"

"No buts! Release her!"

As Snippy rummaged around for his knife and slit Aderyn's bonds, Captain wandered over to the window and held her épée out between two fingers, the wind causing it to wave elegantly.

Aderyn let out a yelp, wide-eyed. "What're you doing?!"

He gave her a critical look through his purple-pink goggles. "Do you swear upon the life of your épée to serve loyally in Zee Captain's Army as far as the spaghetti noodle stretches?"

"This is insane!" she cried, fists clenching. "Give me back my sword!" She started to make a lunge for him, but Snippy grabbed her coat and dragged her back. She threw him a nasty look over her shoulder and he shot her an equally nasty one back, though his eyes were large as he shook his head.

"Just agree," he hissed. "It'll be better for all of us. You don't know what he can do."

Aderyn held back a frustrated groan, turned back to the Captain and said, "Okay," with as much venom as she could muster.

Captain smiled, but you wouldn't be able to see it. "Marvellous! Come retrieve your sword."

Aderyn dashed over and yanked it out of his grasp before slinking back into the corner with the group.

"Your code name," said Captain as he moved over to where Mystery Girl was standing. "Is Epee. Pronounced EP-EE. There will be no argument about this. Now," he turned to the crazy girl. "What is _your_ name?"

"I don't know," she said. "I lost it."

"Nonsense!" he said, shaking the mug in her face. "I shall give one to you! But first, tell me about yourself. What is your favourite colour?"

"Rainbow colour," she answered automatically, as if she had been preparing for this most peculiar kind of résumé.

"Good, good," he said, nodding. "What is the function of a rubber duck?"

"To stick in the eye of a bathtub in times of danger."

"Very good. Have you ever popped a weasel?"

"Two, actually. But only with a penny for a spool of thread and a penny for a needle, because that's the way the money goes."

"Excellent!" he said happily. "When was your last haircut?"

"Five days ago, at the barber shop down the street from where my skyscraper is. The service was terrible, so I'm never going back there."

Captain grinned widely. "Have you ever been to the Philippines?"

"No, but my grandparent's cleaning lady was Filipino."

"What is your favourite hobby?"

"Reading and writing."

"Really, now," he said. "What do you have in that back-carrying-thing of yours?"

Mystery Girl pulled off her backpack and unzipped it. Out came a novel, a notebook and a bundle of blankets.

Captain took the blankets, commenting on how useful these would be, and then instructed her to open up the notebook. Mystery Girl obliged, turning it to the most recent page. Snippy caught a glimpse of the script, but he couldn't understand a word of it. To him, it just looked like a great deal of scribbles.

Captain furrowed his brow as he scanned the text, Mystery Girl standing by, anxious about his critique on her work, but she broke into a wide smile when Captain said, "Lovely! Wonderful work! Welcome to the Army! You've passed with flying colours! Your grades were as good as Pilot's!"

"I'm glad you like my writing," she said, tucking it away again and hugging Thing more tightly.

"But it's just scribbles!" said Snippy before he could stop himself.

Mystery Girl looked a little hurt by this, but Captain said, "It appears that way to the untrained eye, but to a wonderfully sexy expert like myself it is a work of true art!"

Mystery Girl beamed.

"I still have to find your name for you," he said. "Ah, yes. Snipster brought up an excellent idea. I dub thee "Scribbles". Henceforth, you shall be called that."

Scribbles smiled so hard her face stretched in abnormal ways. "Thanks! Thing and I are really happy, aren't we, Thing?"

"Oh, my apologies," said Captain. "I forgot to address your little friend, there."

"That's okay," said Scribbles. "He said that he's used to being forgotten."

"Preposterous!" cried Captain with a wave of his hand. "Thing, what is your favourite colour?"

"Same as mine. All his answers are the same as mine. Except for the writing part. Thing doesn't have much of a hobby, these days."

"Well, that simplifies matters a great deal," he said, playing with the straw in his mug of tea. "Thing, you are an honorary member of the Captain's Awesomely Sexy Army."

Scribbles bowed her head, as if she were listening to what her ratty stuffed animal was saying, then she straightened and replied, "He says thanks."

"His code name shall be Fluff," he said with complete seriousness. "There is to be no argument about this."

Scribbles gave the Captain an exaggerated salute. "Yessir!"

"Excellent. Snipster, these two young ones are to be your responsibility, seeing as you're the one that found them."

"They're not that young," said Snippy. "Aderyn's clearly in her teens and. . . Scribbles. . . is obviously older than that."

"Nonsense! Of course they are young! You may ask a fellow minion to help you. Take good care of my newest minions. Now, I must be left alone to do my pondering." Captain pushed past them all and his footsteps could be heard trudging down the stairs and out the door.

Snippy moaned. "Ugh, just my luck."

"Watch duty doesn't seem so bad, anymore," said Engie, quickly leaving before Snippy could enlist him for assistance.

Pilot had stopped paying attention the conversation when the Captain had told Scribbles that her scores were as good as his. How could he say such a thing?! He had been in service to the Captain for much longer than she had, and he was far more loyal than any of his other minions! Why was he saying that a small _shoe_ was equal to _him_?

"Pilot," said Snippy, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You're helping me look after the girls. Captain said so."

Pilot let out a small, resentful sigh. "This is the only job that the great and glorious Captain has given me that I might not like . . . but I shall force myself to enjoy it!" He brought his gaze down to the two teens—Aderyn gripping her sword in the corner, and the scarf-girl staring into empty space—and felt his resolve weaken significantly.

"I have a name," said Scribbles softly, as if she couldn't quite believe it. "I-I have a name!" she cried. She turned to Snippy and shook his hand vigorously, saying, "Hi! I'm Scribbles! That's my name, you know!" Before he could respond, she released it and leapt away, laughing and singing with joy.

Aderyn couldn't help but chuckle a little at her elation. She shot a glance over at Snippy, who also seemed to be smiling, before Captain's voice echoed in her head: Snipster, these two young ones are your responsibility . . . take good care of my newest minions.

She growled a little, both at the thought of being taken care of by that gun freak and at the idea that this Captain guy had only taken two minutes to infiltrate her head. Hearing the noise, Snippy turned to her.

"I can guess what you're thinking," he said. "I'd like you to know that I am not at all happy about this arrangement."

"Good." Aderyn slung her weapon across her back, the familiar weight settling on her shoulder. "Because neither am I."

Especially not me, thought Pilot. Why would the great and mighty Captain stick me in with a bunch of stinky shoes?

Scribbles was still giggling a little bit. "So, what do we do, now?"

"We go find food," said Snippy, shouldering his rifle and stomping out of the room, the three others following behind him.

After three long hours of searching—approximately—the quartet of minions trudged back to the base, heads lowered in defeat.

"That was a huge waste of my time," said Aderyn.

"No one cares," snapped Snippy.

"I care. We should have spent more time looking for weapons."

"Yeah, that strikes me as a bad idea," he said. "I'm amazed that you've only tried to escape twice and I've only had to shoot at you once."

She snorted. "Please. You shot at me because I called you _Snipster_ too many times."

"Don't call me that."

". . . Snipster."

Pilot and Scribbles shared a look, then rolled their eyes.

"Drama," she said, waving her hands. "It's not necessary! I feel like I'm in middle school again. You guys fight like brother and sister."

The two of them each shot back a look that made the frigid nuclear winter seem a little bit colder.

Scribbles ducked her head in embarrassment.

Pilot was reminded of the fact that he was supposed to strongly dislike this newcomer, almost as much as he hated Snippy. No, more than that, actually. But it was hard to hate someone who liked the same things that you do. He and Scribbles had pranced and skipped through the snow, talking about unicorns and rainbows and how awesomely cool Captain was and why cake was delicious. Snippy and Aderyn had stood by, looking sullen. Pilot didn't like her, either. She was too much like Snippy.

"So, did you find it?" came a German accent.

"Bwah!" Snippy stopped in his tracks just in time to prevent crashing into Captain.

"Did you find it?" repeated Captain.

"We couldn't find any food . . ." he started, but was silenced with a wave of the heart mug.

"No, silly Snipster! The rainbow puddle! Did you find it?"

Snippy blinked, recollection finally dawning on him. "Um . . . no."

"Ooh!" cried Scribbles, waving her hand in the air as if she were in school. "I found one!"

The entire group stared at her.

"I found her watch in it," she said, pointing at Aderyn's wrist. "I know one that's really close by! C'mon!" She skipped away, singing to herself, leaving the others standing there in a befuddled mass.

"Follow that Scribbles!" declared Captain, striding after her.

The other three members of Zee Captain's Army followed behind, not at all pleased about the predicament, though all for different reasons.

After a short minute or two of walking in a large, vague circle, Scribbles stopped and pointed at the ground. "There!"

Captain walked over and stared down at the ground, mystified. The others peered over, wondering what it was that they saw. Snippy and Aderyn didn't see a thing, just a patch of ice. Pilot saw a small sparkly rainbow in the frozen water. He couldn't quite believe that she had succeeded.

Captain stood straight, squared his shoulders, and said, "Ms. Scribbles, you have succeeded where one of my most long-serving and trusted minions has failed. Feel free to be proud."

Scribbles hugged Thing tightly, flushing under the praise.

Pilot, Aderyn and Snippy stared hard at the two of them in intense dislike.

Aderyn felt that the day had been a bit too long for her liking. She planned to escape from this fresh batch of weirdoes as soon as was physically possible. Still, she couldn't really move anywhere right now. She was mushed between Pilot's back and a wall. At the end of the day, Captain had commanded all of them to sleep in a row, like sardines. She didn't see why this was necessary, but Pilot had seized Snippy and herself about the waists with surprising strength and dragged them over to this corner of the base. Scribbles had followed on her own, nestling up to Snippy with a small sigh, while Engie had edged his way next to her, looking embarrassed.

"Ugh, I acted like such an _idiot_ yesterday," came an unfamiliar voice.

Aderyn froze, then slowly turned her head to see a figure pacing back and forth. A patch of reflected light illuminated the figure's face for a moment, and she saw that it was Scribbles, and she had taken her mask off.

"That was _such _a bad day for those guys to find me," she muttered, holding onto Thing. "One of my more crazy days . . . if only they had found me _today_, then I'd have been able to run, but no . . ." She stared down at the stuffed animal in her hands. "And I talk to this . . . this _thing!_" She hurled it at the wall in frustration.

Scribbles buried her fingers in her hair, groaning. "And now I'm stuck with a stupid name in a place full of crazy and grumpy people who thing I'm a . . . a goddamn _idiot_, and . . . and . . ." She let out a depressed sigh. "It's better than being alone, I guess."

After a moment of inner debate, Aderyn cautiously sat up, and Scribbles whirled around at the sound.

"Oh, it's you." She laughed, but there was no humour in her voice. "Sorry I woke you."

Aderyn shook her head, mute and perplexed by her behaviour.

Scribbles seemed to guess what she was thinking about. "I suppose you're wondering why I'm acting . . . you know . . . normal."

Aderyn nodded and stood, slipping past her sleeping companions as she tried not to step on Engie's face.

"You see," said Scribbles, sitting down on a beaten up easy chair, "You see, I have 'crazy days' and 'sane days'."

"What?" Aderyn asked, lowering herself cautiously onto an equally decrepit couch.

"For every seven or eight crazy days, I'm blessed with a sane day." She smiled for a moment, but then it disappeared. "When I'm crazy, at least I'm happy, but when I'm sane, I'm safe." She sighed. "It's terrible, really. I feel like I have split personality syndrome or something, I don't know."

Aderyn's fingers worked themselves into a patch of mouldy stuffing. "That doesn't sound too fun."

"It's really not. And the worst part is, I'm stuck with a stupid name, to boot!" She groaned loudly. "Scribbles . . . honestly!"

Aderyn flinched and glanced around, her hands contracting, but no one stirred. "So you really _can't_ remember your name?"

"Not a thing," she said with a shrug. "My counting really isn't that good, either. I don't remember a thing about my past except for vague pictures . . . well, I remember my family—kind of—but I have zilch knowledge about specific events. I don't remember anything before the fallout."

Aderyn crossed her legs, her fingers now plucking at the soft material, reducing it to shreds. "That . . . sucks."

"Yeah, it really does." Scribbles folded her hands behind her head and kicked her feet up so her legs were dangling of the arm of the easy chair. "I'm trying not to be overly optimistic or anything, but things are definitely looking up for me." She smiled at Aderyn. "Thanks for putting up with crazy me."

Aderyn gave her a grudging smirk, unwinding the strands of fluff from her fingers. "I'd say it was no problem, but it really was."

Scribbles let out a loud laugh, then covered her mouth, looking over at her sleeping companions. "Sorry," she said to them.

"They can't hear you," said Aderyn, amused.

". . . sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"I'm Canadian; it's what we do."

Now it was Aderyn's turn to snicker, then look apologetic, although she didn't say anything.

Scribbles let out a sigh. "It's good to have people to talk to, again, you know."

"I'm sure it is," said Aderyn. She rubbed a scrape on her knee through the cloth of her jacket. "Question. Why is your voice high pitched when you're crazy but more normal when you're sane?"

"It is?" Scribbles' hand went to her throat, over her scarf. "I didn't know. Is it annoying?"

". . . very."

"Sorry."

Scribbles grinned, and after a second, so did Aderyn.

Scribbles stretched her arms above her head. "We should get some more shut-eye. There's still a few more hours until daybreak." She stood, stretched, then cautiously moved back into her spot, trying not to step on her new friends more than necessary. She tucked herself in close to Snippy's front, letting herself relax with a sigh.

Aderyn looked around a little, wondering where that Captain was, as she slid into her place between Pilot and the wall.

Does he even sleep? she wondered, black velvet tendrils pulling her down. In all honesty, I wouldn't be surprised in the least if he didn't.

This was her last thought before she fell into slumber.

Scribbles' head was spinning a great deal, though, so sleep didn't claim her just yet. She had so many questions, and so few answers. Aside from the constantly world-rocking ones of 'Who am I?', 'How did I get here?', and 'Am I really crazy?', she now found herself beginning to grow curious about her companions. Who are these people? How did they survive? Why was Snippy so grumpy? Why did Pilot seem to worship Captain? What the heck _was_ the Captain, anyway?

It took a long hour for sleep to overcome her tired body and mind.


	6. Chapter 6

Snippy let out a heavy groan. "Why am I stuck with you?"

"The same reason gum sticks to the bottom of your shoe," replied Aderyn.

"Jerk."

"Sourpuss."

Aderyn stared at the back of Snippy's jacket sullenly, running her thumb over the grip of her sword and fighting the strong urge to run him through with it. Rubble crunched under the soles of her boots, dust flying up before drifting off in the icy breeze.

"Remind me again what we're supposed to be looking for out here," she said. She shivered, the icy wind slipping a wintry finger down the back of her jacket, along her spine.

"A rainbow puddle," said Snippy, looking distinctly annoyed. Partly with her, partly with the ridiculous task at hand.

"But Mystery Gi—I mean, _Scribbles_ supposedly found one already."

"Try telling that to Captain." Snippy continued to trudge along, gun slung—as always—across his back.

"And now we're actually looking for one." Aderyn kicked away a chunk of concrete, and it knocked into a broken pipe with a dull _clang_.

"No. That's what we were _told_ to do." He stepped over a mound of rubble as he spoke. "What we're actually doing is looking for food, or anything else that might prevent us from dying."

"In this dump?" She was being literal. Surrounding them were huge piles of junk—the skeletons of cars fit for nothing, all parts of use stripped away for scrap; ragged armchairs, their stuffing spilling out like damp, off-white innards; ancient bicycles, their frames having deteriorated to the point that whenever her leg brushed against a metal tube, reddish-brown flakes danced through the air; pans with their bottoms rusted out and lonely sneakers and ironing boards and splintered wood and watches and clothes and anything imaginable, all stacked haphazardly as if in some giant's game of Clue or Mousetrap. She put that second thought out of her mind, not wanting to tempt fate.

Aderyn nearly let out a snort when she saw a kitchen sink partially buried in a towering mountain of tin cans, but thought better of it—for one thing, Snippy was here, and for another, she half-expected the garbage heaps to crash down on her like snow in an avalanche.

"Just shut up and follow me," Snippy muttered, his fingers curling into a fist.

She nudged a screw with her sword-tip and it skittered away like a startled bug. "I wish I could, but I feel like you'd lead me off a cliff or something."

"God forbid that to happen to our knight in shining armour." Snippy's sarcasm was clearly audible through his mask. "Just be glad Captain let you in this little army. That metal stick of yours is the only thing that saved you from being thrown to Photoshop."

"This _metal stick_ seems to be drawn magnetically to your head, _Snipster_. I wonder why that is? Is it because you have lead for brains?"

"I would laugh if that made any sense whatsoever." Pause. "And _don't call me that!_"

"Think about it a while, _Snipter_ and maybe it'll come to you."

"I have a feeling it won't."

"Rack your brains, Snipster. It should only take you a couple seconds or so."

He just sighed in defeat as they wound through the piles of junk, though his gloved hands clenched as though he was imagining them closing around her throat.

Aderyn said cockily, "I win."

"You really are a child, aren't you?" he snapped.

"How does it make you feel to know a child can outwit you?"

"I swear to God, I will murder you here and now and tell them a worm got you."

"You could try."

He paused for a second at this veiled threat, his hand travelling to the butt of his rifle. Aderyn brushed past him, smirking under her mask.

"Don't panic, Snipster. I won't try to stab you for the moment. Let's just find some food, all right? I'm hungry."

He exhaled, slowly lowering his hand. _Who let this nutjob have a pointed object when she was a toddler?_ he wondered as he started walking again. _Was it the same person who gave Captain that radioactive mug? Because I'd like to shoot them right now._

"Snipster."

"What now?"

"Where's this food you're looking for?" Aderyn stepped over a three-legged stool, cracks like crevasses etched into its surface. "You better know where this is."

He plodded stoically ahead, the flipped-up lenses of his goggles flat and very, very unimpressed. "If I knew, I wouldn't be out here with you."

"So why are we still here?"

"You got a better idea?"

"Yeah. I leave you here to search for a rainbow puddle by yourself and say a hunter-wraith devoured you."

He grumbled under his breath. Don't joke like that. He'd only encountered hunter-wraiths a couple of times out in the wastelands, and he was happy to still be alive to tell the tale.

He glanced to the side, his reflection in a battered toaster staring back at him. The food was probably around here somewhere . . . at least, it had been when he'd last visited the junkyard. A crashing from his right made him freeze, his heart rate speeding up.

"Swordsgirl," he hissed. No response. His hand went to his gun. "Hey! Where are you?"

The shink of metal over metal was the only reply. He swallowed hard and slung the black weapon off his shoulder. Something was there.

And whatever it was, it was big, scary, and not human.

Aderyn slid down the gentle slope of the mountain of junk, screws and chunks of metal rolling under her feet. She came to a halt in front of an object, and her fingers tightened on her sword grip.

Gavin.

She inhaled through her nose and sheathed her epee, reaching out a gloved hand to the object. Before her fingertip touched it, however, a loud noise rang out from to the left and behind her, making her head whirl around.

"Snipster!" she yelled. "Stop wrecking the place!"

Two gunshots rang cracked into the air, echoing from tower to tower of junk.

"Snipster!" She turned fully around. "That's not funny!"

More gunfire. Yells. The sound of something large plowing through the waste; the crunches of wood, plastic and metal alike splintering under the massive weight.

_That wasn't Snipster_.

Only one thing to do. Despite her common sense screaming at her to run away, she grabbed her sword and ran towards the gunfire.

**(A/N: Hey, sorry for the delays. I might not do any writing for a long while because I'm participating in Novel November, and I have to write 50 000 words in a month. Wish me luck, though!)**


	7. Chapter 7

Snippy was, as they say, in a pickle.

The huge, salivating beast that stood in front of him was horrifying. Its teeth were the length of his arm, its scales the size of dinner plates, its pupils the size of his hand. Its nostrils flared and a low rumble shook the air.

"Shit . . ." he muttered, backing away slowly. Then he stepped on a plate, sending a clatter of tin cans and other bits of trash sailing towards the bottom. He lost his footing, and crashed down the tower of junk, tumbling down and landing in a pile at the bottom. Sharp pain shot through his arm and when he tried to move his fingers, he found it was impossible. Gathering himself, he stared up at the monster. It started heading down the pile towards him, and he fired a few shots up at it.

The silence was split, shattered, by the fierce roars of the mutant and by the gunfire. The bullets struck the creature in the chest and its forelegs crumpled, sending it plummeting down the pile towards Snippy.

Charles scrambled out of the way, his right arm dangling uselessly beside him, just before the creature dropped onto the pile of trash that he had previously occupied. To be safe, he fired a few bullets into the creature's head, and its death throes ceased.

More snarls and howls came from the other side of the trash pile, and a few more monster heads peeked over the top, snarling viciously.

Snippy didn't waste time in sticking around. He turned and bolted, stumbling over broken bicycles and microwaves, metal bits and pieces scrambling away from under his boots.

Aderyn's head peered over a nearby pile. "Snipster, what—"

Her eyes grew wide at the sight of three giant creatures lumbering towards her, and she turned and ran with Snippy.

Down the rest of the trash pile and across the cement pad they sprinted, kicking cans and bags aside, trying not to trip over their own feet in their haste. Then they reached the fence and Snippy slammed it shut before turning and running after Aderyn.

Eventually, the two of them slowed to a jog, then finally to a walk. Snippy looked down at his arm, which was bent at an awkward angle.

"Damn it," he muttered, dropping his gun on the ground and ripping off his jacket.

Aderyn stopped. "That doesn't seem like such a bright idea, Snip—" She was cut off again when she caught sight of his broken arm. It was also badly scraped, and bleeding sluggishly. She let out a breath, with an expression of something that might've been admiration. "How'd you get your arm like that?"

"Monsters," he muttered, pulling a bandage and a sling out of his pocket. "No thanks to you."

"Hey!" she snapped, brandishing her sword. "I was coming to help!"

"But you didn't, did you?" he snapped, applying pressure to the injury and wincing. "You talk big, but in an _actual _life-or-death situation, you bugger out."

Aderyn watched as he wrapped his arm up, then tried to figure out how to get it into a sling. It was done rather clumsily, considering his right arm was broken and he was trying to repair with his non-dominant hand.

Aderyn sighed and grabbed Snippy's coat, holding it out to him. "Put this on, then I can help you with your sling."

His goggles moved, making him look sceptical. "What's with your shift in attitude?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Take what you can get, Snipster."

He sighed and pulled his coat on with difficulty, then sat down on the ground, handing Aderyn the sling.

Not sure of what she was doing, she lifted Snippy's arm gently and he winced. She knew how much that had to hurt – she broke her arm when she was seven—but at least she'd had a cast.

She wrapped his arm up snugly, trying to keep it in place. "There. How's that?"

"Fine for now," he said. "It'll be okay until we get back to the base."

"Let's head back."

Scribbles was poking around the base, looking for something of use. She had enough clarity of mind at the moment to remember where she was and what she was doing. She was grateful for that. At that time, she was just trying to busy herself. Captain and Pilot had gone out doing whatever it is they do, Aderyn and Snippy had gone out in search of supplies, and Engie was "fixing" a radio. Really, that meant he was just poking at it listlessly and sighing.

Scribbles straightened. She had been bent over an old tub, sifting through the various little nuts and bolts with her gloved hands. So far, she had zilch. Nothing that could help her survive.

She sighed, walked over to the staircase and sat down. It groaned and creaked under her weight. She tapped the front of her mask, deep in thought.

_iShould I hang around, or should I take off?/i _she wondered. i_I mean, these people could keep me safe. They have food. Besides, security in numbers. Also, Snippy has a gun, and Aderyn has her sword./i_

She tilted her head. i_On the other hand, they might decide that I'm far more trouble than I'm worth and might feed me to that thing they call "Photoshop". That wouldn't be good./i_

She sighed, resting her chin in her hands. "What to do, what to do?" she muttered aloud.

Scribbles turned her head at the sound of feet stomping down the stairs. Engie was walking towards her, looking mopey as always.

"Hi," she said, shuffling out of the way as he dropped past her onto the floor below.

Engie looked at her suspiciously. "Hello."

Scribbles raised a brow. "What?"

"Nothing." Pause. "How are you?"

". . . Fine. Thanks for asking. What about you?"

"I'm doing okay, considering the world has ended."

She chuckled a little. "True, I suppose."

Another long pause.

"How come you're acting normal?" he asked.

She tensed, realizing the prior part of the conversation had been a test. How had she missed that?

She frowned. "None of your business." Scribbles stood, pushing past him. She was a sturdy girl, and when her shoulder collided with his, Engie stumbled a little.

Engie pushed his hand against her shoulder, and she was forced against the wall. "I think it is my business," he said. "Was yesterday an act to earn our sympathy? I'd like to add that it didn't work, by the way. I have to put up with enough crazy people."

"If I was trying to earn your sympathy," she said calmly, "don't you think that I would have come to you starving and hopeless? That makes more sense than acting crazy and annoying."

"Point." He scrutinized her through his amber goggles, eyes calculating, measuring her.

She didn't like it.

"Let go of me, freak."

This looked like it stung. "Don't call me that."

"Why not, knob?"

His fingers tightened, gripped her jacket. "This isn't middle school, kid."

"I know."

"So enough with the name calling," he growled. "There is a time and a place for everything."

"You're pinning me against a wall, perv," she replied in an equally angry tone. "Let me go, or I'll make you."

His grip increased and he brought his face closer. "Oh, yeah? How?"

WHAM!

Scribbles' fist collided with Gromov's mask, forcing it painfully against his nose. Blood began to flow; he stumbled back onto the floor and pulled his mas away from his face so he could breathe.

Just about to shout an insult at Scribbles, he pulled himself up, but she was long gone, having taken off.

"Stupid pervert," she muttered. "I'm going outside to cool off."

This wasn't necessary, however, and she didn't get far. Within a few steps, she saw Snippy and Aderyn coming up towards her. When she noticed them, she raised her arm to wave hello, but then she noticed that something was very wrong. Snippy was holding himself stiffly, and was leaning heavily against Aderyn.

i_If they're not constantly bickering, that can't be good_,/i she thought. i_What's even worse is that they're standing so close together without one of them chewing the other's head off_./i

She broke into a run, screeching to a halt before the two. "What happened?"

"Mutants," muttered Snippy thickly. "Swordsgirl here bandaged up my arm. . . Kind of."

"I could have killed you," the girl pointed out, panting with exertion. "But I didn't. You owe me your life."

"I owe you nothing! If that's how you want to play, I could have shot you in your sleep, so iyou/i owe me iyour/i life."

She grunted, breath white puffs in the chill air. "Oh, really, Snipster?"

"SHUT UP," snapped Scribbles, startling them both into silence. "C'mon, Ad, let's get Snippy inside. Engie's in there, but he's kind of patching up a bloody nose right now."

"What happened?" Snippy asked as Scribbles moved around to support his non-injured side.

She didn't say anything.

"Well?" he asked as they limped towards the base.

". . . I kind of punched him in the nose."

"For what?"

"Threatening me."

Snippy laughed. "That's hilarious."

He limped towards the base, feeling in better spirits at the thought of Gromov getting shown up by a girl.

Then something occurred to him, just as he crossed the threshold.

He eyed Scribbles suspiciously. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," she said quickly.

"Your voice is different."

"I know. I can't help it."

"You're acting normal. That's weird, for you."

"Yesterday was kind of an off day for me," she said curtly. "If you got the impression that I am not capable of malice or clear thinking, you would be very, very wrong."

Snippy didn't say anything more on the subject.

Aderyn stomped up the stairs, trying to find the engineer. "Hey! Engie!"

He stuck his head out of the upstairs room, looking irritable. "What?"

"Snippy's busted his arm."

"iWhat?/i"

She made an exasperated noise. "You have ears, don't you? Get down here!"

Two pairs of feet thumped hurriedly down the stairs and onto the crowded landing where Snippy and Scribbles were.

Engie didn't meet anyone's gaze as he took the sniper by his good arm and pulled him up the stairs.


	8. Chapter 8

Aderyn extended her arm, exhaled, and shifted her position slightly. The épée's weight was familiar and comforting, the "pistol" grip perfectly fitted to the contours of her hand. She advanced, hopped forward, and lunged, holding her position for a few seconds, the sharp point unwavering. A smooth recovery followed and then a retreat. But then her back foot landed on a broken piece of glass and her legs flew out from under her, sending her crashing to the cold floor.

So elegant.

"_Oof._" She got to a sitting position, rubbing her head. Her épée was rolling on the ground a couple of feet away, a new chip shining silvery on its guard.

"Ad?" Scribbles' head poked around the doorframe. She covered the front of her gas mas with her palm, trying to supress a chuckle. "What're you doing?"

"Trying to attack the ground. What does it look like I'm doing?" She picked up her sword and got to her feet, brushing off her pants.

Scribbles rolled her eyes behind her goggles. "I wouldn't put it past you, either."

"Gee, thanks." She used her sleeve to polish the guard. "So what're _you_ doing?"

"Ah, not much." She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "Just wondering why it sounded like there was a tap-dancing elephant up here."

"I really don't like the sarcastic you." Aderyn flicked her sword, making it bend and flex in the monochromatic light streaming in the dust-streaked windows of the base. "You're getting on my nerves. Leave."

Scribbles' eyebrows met. "Okay, that's not nice. Just because I wouldn't have taken offence before doesn't mean I feel the same way now. Crazy me is pretty much oblivious."

"I figured," she said. She glanced up and caught Scribbles angry glare.

She sighed. "Fine, fine." She slipped past Scribbles to head down the stairs, still flicking her épée. Scribbles turned to follow, hands in pockets.

"Why're you in such a bad mood?" she asked as she thumped down the stairs.

"Am I?" Aderyn sheathed her weapon. "Aren't I always like this?"

"I'm not really sure at this point." Scribbles jumped the last two steps, landing on the floor with a loud thud.

"Why don't you go _read up_ on it or something?" she snapped. "That's all you ever do."

Scribbles came to a halt. "Okay, that was uncalled for." Her fists clenched. "What's your problem?"

"I have many." Aderyn continued to walk. "Want a list?"

Scribbles fumed. "You . . . I can see why Snippy doesn't like you. At least before now I could put up with you. No wonder you were alone in the wasteland before, Captain Snarky!"

"Captain Snarky?" She paused for a second, shoulders stiffening, then started off again. "Snipster, huh? Why don't you go talk to _him_, then?"

She crossed her arms. "Maybe I will, _Snarky!_"

"Ooh, I'm _so_ scared!" Aderyn waved her hands in a mocking gesture. "Don't hit me with that big scary _book_ you have there!"

"You . . . you . . . you . . ." Scribbles glared as the other girl stalked out the door, into the cold. "W-where do you think you're going?"

"We never did get any supplies. So I'm going to go find some." Her long hair waved in the wind. "_Alone_."

"Fine!" she called after her, receiving no response. She spun on her heel and stomped away, muttering to herself. "What _is_ her problem, anyway?"

"Stupid," growled Aderyn under her breath. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

She kicked at a dented can and it skittered away, its hollow metallic clanging echoing off the ruined buildings.

"It's not as though I even wanted to run away from the darn mutants in the first place." The fingers of her hand caressed the grip of her sword where it protruded just above her right shoulder, tracing the familiar curves. "I could've . . ."

Then she growled a curse and clenched her jaw, her hand falling to her side. "That idiot . . . what does he know?"

"_You talk big, but in an_ actual _life-or-death situation, you bugger out_."

She growled and her hands clenched as his stinging words echoed in her mind. "Bastard . . ."

Then a new thought popped into her head. _What am I doing here?_

Why was she still here, still hanging around with these people? One was crazy, one was a jerk, one was a wimpy jerk, one was a jerk _and_ crazy, and the last was part-time crazy. All in all, not the ideal team. The reason she'd joined up with these weirdos in the first place was because she'd thought it would be safer, easier to find food, all that good stuff. But right now, it seemed more like she was getting way too caught up in the drama that virtually swirled around this dysfunctional group.

Her fingernails dug into her palms. _I could just leave_. Maybe that was what she should do. Yeah. After all, what did they need one chick with a sword for? They already had Snipster and his toy gun. Scribbles didn't need any help finding her name anymore—at least for the time being. Anyway, that Captain and Pilot had really taken a shining to her. She'd be fine with them.

Aderyn kicked aside another piece of rubble and wondered why she cared about her at all.

Then a shadow fell over her, and she looked up.

"Huh?"

A teetering stack of pots and pans tilted precariously above her, and she looked around, now noticing her surroundings. It seemed she'd headed back to the dump without meaning to.

_My subconscious has a_ terrible _sense of direction,_ she concluded.

Then she remembered something. She remembered what she'd been looking at before the mutants had showed up and everything had gone to hell. It was still here, right? It probably was—no one else was gonna visit this place. There were no other people out here, as far as she knew, and honestly she preferred it that way. And if there were, they were probably even less sane than the group she was already with. She contemplated the risk-to-reward ratio for a moment. Then: _Why the hell not?_

So she stepped forward, sword in hand—better safe than sorry—into the jumble of metal, cloth, and kitchen sinks.

Forty-five minutes later, she was still searching.

"Damn it," she spat aloud, wiping sweat from her brow as she sank down onto an overturned oven. "Haven't I searched the entire place yet? Seriously, how hard could it be to find _one little thing?_"

She sighed, producing a white cloud, and looked around. Her wandering gaze fell upon one of the higher towers of junk, and an idea floated into her brain. Most likely a bad one, but an idea nonetheless.

When she'd reached the top, she realized that yes, this was indeed a bad idea. Also a stupid one. And a little more than just slightly dangerous.

She grabbed onto a pot handle from where it was wedged in a pile of discarded items, bracing herself in case she slipped, and peered out, over the wreckage. Snow was beginning to fall again, settling in a thin layer over the dump, smoothing out the dips and bumps. This was bad. If the snow buried what she was looking for, she would probably never find it at all. _Where is it?_

Then she saw something poking out of the snow. She squinted through her ski goggles at the protrusion. It wasn't far away, but it was small—was that was she wanted?

She half-slid, half-walked her way over to the object, leaving skidding tracks on the snow. Sheathing her sword on her back, she gently tugged on the object, freeing it from its icy imprisonment. Blowing snowflakes off its surface, she examined it, turning it in her gloved hands.

"This is . . ."

It was a miniature rocking-horse, wooden. It was splintery beyond belief and the paint was pretty much gone; actually, it was kind of hard to tell it was supposed to be a rocking-horse at all. But Aderyn recognized it. She'd had one just like it, long before the earth went kaboom. She rubbed her thumb over its rough surface. She'd felt the need to come back and get it . . . why? Because it reminded her of happier times? She snorted aloud at this thought. _Why would I want to be reminded of something I can't have?_ No, the reason she'd come back for this was—

A low snarl split the air, and she whirled around. One of the mutants that had attacked her and Snippy earlier was standing there on one of the piles of junk, front paws planted aggressively on its peak, its lip curled back from pointed teeth, a rumble pouring from its chest like a waterfall.

Aderyn almost dropped the rocking-horse. _Goddammit . . ._

Its rolling growl erupted into an outright roar as it charged, claws skidding. She dove out of the way just in time, cracking her knee painfully on a microwave as she landed. Stumbling to her feet, she stuffed the rocking-horse into her pocket and pulled her sword from its sheath, turning to face the mutant as it skidded to a halt with the harsh shriek of metal.

"Why me?" she muttered.

It let out another roar and she flinched a little, stepping slowly backwards. If she was quick, maybe she could make a run for it—

"_You talk big, but in an _actual _life-or-death situation, you bugger out._"

Her fists clenched and she set her jaw. She couldn't just run back to those weirdoes with her tail between her legs, she couldn't prove that idiot Snipster right, she couldn't back down. Her pride wouldn't allow it.

"Come on, you mutt!" she yelled before her brain could catch up to her mouth. She valiantly tried to keep a quiver out of her voice. "Come on!"

Maybe it understood her, or maybe it detected the challenge in the words, but either way it attacked again, jaws gaping, claws outstretched. She jumped sideways as it hurtled through the space she'd just been occupying, lashing out at it with her sword and scoring a hit on its shoulder. However, the manoeuvre left her off-balance, and she staggered as she tried to regain her footing.

_Oh sh—_

And then the mutant was there, all needle-like teeth and long claws, ripping and tearing, eyes flashing, rage rasping from its throat. Aderyn brought up her sword in a wild, desperate arc as her feet went out from under her, and she felt the sharp tip sink into flesh, the mutant's own momentum carrying it forward in a blur of motion—

There was a sudden sharp pain in her leg, and then in her back as she toppled off the pile of junk and crashed to the ground, the air being forced from her lungs with a whoosh, the oppressive, crushing weight of the struggling mutant pressing down, down, down upon her—

Another sting of pain, this time across her face as a heavy, clawed hand snapped her head back, shoving her goggles into the bridge of her nose. Her eyes watered, and the world was just a blur of motion as she tried to kick her way free and the mutant's limbs thrashed in savage fury—

And then she was lying there with a ringing in her ears and pain pounding its way through her body as the mutant's snarls dwindled to a feeble whistling noise, its movements slowing down and faltering until it fell silent. There was a muffled thump as its movements stopped, then the only sound in the wasteland dump was the whistling of the wind and Aderyn's haggard breathing.

She'd been lying there for maybe a couple of minutes when it occurred to her that she should probably get up, and so she wriggled out from under the deadweight of the mutant and sat up, her head throbbing. The mutant was dead, her sword through its throat and its green blood smeared down her front.

_Doubt this blood is healthy . . . guess I should wash it off sometime soon._ She probably should've been disgusted by this, but she just felt numb. The shock had rendered her slightly catatonic in the face of the gore. She reached down and pulled the sword from the thing's throat with a sickly squelching noise before flicking the blood from its blade and wiping it on her already-soiled shirt. As she sheathed the weapon, she tried to stand and failed miserably, a stream of curses exploding from her mouth when she put her weight on her left leg.

"Dammit . . ." Rolling into a sitting position, Aderyn grabbed at her leg with stiff fingers, bunching up the material of her pants. "_Dammit!_"

When it had been flailing around in its final death throes, the mutant had managed to land a blow on her calf with its clawed back feet, just below her knee. Her own blood—dark scarlet as opposed to electric green—welled up from the wound to stain her pants an even murkier shade of black. Breath hissing between gritted teeth, she inhaled deeply a few times, forcing herself to get a grip. Her masked fogged with perspiration and she longed to rip her mask off so she could breathe freely, but she knew that with the radioactivity in the area, doing that would be practically a death sentence. As is, she had to get out of there before her wound became infected by merely making contact with the air.

When she'd recovered sufficiently, she clenched her fists and struggled back to her feet, pain shooting up and down her leg. The cold was doing all right to numb it, at least for the moment, but she had to get back—no matter how dorky or idiotic the others were, they had her stuff.

"Just for a while longer," she muttered, and began her limping trek back. Soon the falling snow had covered the tiny spots of scarlet and green left in her footprints, and then those too disappeared altogether. It was as if the marks had never existed at all.


	9. Chapter 9

Scribbles sat on the deteriorating couch with her arms crossed. Snippy was slouching next to her, clumsily cleaning his gun with one hand. Engie was sitting as far away from her as humanly possible: on the other side of the room, with the Captain and Pilot between them, who were playing a game of chess which involved the Captain's mug being a queen.

"Checkmate!" called Captain, pushing his mug forward and knocking aside all other pieces regardless of their colour.

"You win again!" cried Pilot cheerily, not at all bothered by the thirty-two losses in a row. "Zee Captain is always the best!"

Snippy groaned quietly and continued wiping down his gun. He dropped his rag for the umpteenth time and groaned again, but louder.

"You want me to get that?" Scribbles asked.

Snippy sighed and leaned back into the couch. "Please," he muttered.

Scribbles untangled her arms and reached down, grabbed the rag, and placed it in Snippy's hand.

"Do you know where Swordsgirl is?" he asked with a nod of thanks.

Scribbles shook her head. "Last I saw, she was storming off into the snow. Why?"

Snippy tilted his head at her, giving the impression that one of his eyebrows was cocked. "You sound angry."

"She was being a jerk," she muttered, crossing her arms again and slumping back into the couch. A frown creased the skin between her eyebrows.

"How so?" he asked sympathetically—he could very well understand Aderyn being less than pleasant. He would have touched her shoulder had his arm not been wound up in a tight bandage.

"Oh, it's nothing," she said. "Don't listen to me, I'm just ranting like a crazy girl here." Then she smacked her forehead bitterly. "Oh wait. I _am_ a crazy girl."

He nudged her gently. "C'mon. You can tell me. I won't bite."

Scribbles chuckled slightly. "You make a persuasive argument, unlike most of the monsters out here." She shot a look at Engie, who shrank away slightly. Then she sighed and rubbed her shoulders. "Well . . . she basically called me useless."

"Mm," said Snippy. "That's a biter, especially in these times."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I know I read a lot and I'm not a good fighter, but that doesn't make me useless. R-right?" For a moment, her voice wavered a bit, and Snippy nodded, as it seemed the best thing to do at the time.

Scribbles sighed again and stood, clapping her hand on Snippy's shoulder. He bit back a cry of pain, managing to reduce it to a hiss.

"Sorry," she said, quickly pulling her hand away. "I'll just be outside. I'll yell if . . . you know . . . I'm attacked by a mutant or something."

"That's likelier than you might think." Snippy laughed anyway. "Cheers. Don't get frostbite."

"No promises," she said, smiling behind the mask which concealed it so well. She shouldered her backpack and tromped down the stairs. Dust fell a little from the ceiling as she stomped, not caring that she was making enough noise to wake a monster like Photoshop. She jumped down the last two steps with a sound that was loud enough to wake a small Arabian army, elephants and all. She walked out the door, plopping down into a nearby snow pile. The cold soaked through her pants quickly, but she had long ago come to grips with the fact that in post-apocalyptia, she was always in a state of being cold, wet, or some combination thereof.

She unzipped her backpack and pulled out Thing. She eyed it sadly, taking in its sorry shape. It had been burned, nibbled on by mice, crushed by half a car, thrown at a mutant on one occasion, and quite a few other misfortunes had befallen it besides those. It was a miracle that it was still intact.

With some distress, Scribbles noticed that one of the legs was falling off, and some stuffing was poking through the seams. She bit her lip, knowing that she wouldn't have noticed this if she was crazy . . . at least not until the leg came off entirely. If she could scrounge up a needle and thread, she could patch it up.

She chose that moment to look up through the rapidly falling snow and sweep her gaze across the wasteland, noticing the now-familiar silhouette of Aderyn coming towards the base. She stuffed her cat in her bag with a huff, not wanting to attract more mockery than was necessary.

Standing, she brushed snow off her pants and crossed her arms with a glare. However, her irritation turned to concern when she noticed that instead of Aderyn's normal easy, confident lope, she was limping slightly.

_Dammit_.

Scribbles shouldered her backpack and jogged over to her friend, skidding to a halt on the icy ground and biting her lip at the sight of the blood streaming down Aderyn's left leg and the obvious discomfort with which she held herself.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice not as powerful as she wanted it to be.

"Mutants," Aderyn muttered thickly. "Same ones that helped Snipster bust his arm. Won't do any more busting from now on, though."

"Cocky attitude even with a half-severed leg, Ad?" Scribbles asked.

"Oh yeah. You know me." She grunted a little in pain as she stopped and tried to straighten. "I'll be badmouthing people even as I die."

Scribbles sighed. "Let me help."

For once, Aderyn didn't protest as Scribbles pulled her arm over her shoulders, taking the weight off her left side. She let out a breath of relief as the pain began to ebb slightly.

"How deep is it?" asked Scribbles, feeling a little sick to her stomach.

Aderyn craned her neck to look down at the injury, voice hoarse. "Not too bad. Half an inch at worst."

Scribbles swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. "Gross."

Aderyn glanced at her. "Please don't tell me you feel faint at the sight of blood."

"And I have a phobia of sharp things, yes." She hung her head in shame. "God, I _am_ useless."

Aderyn sighed, but didn't say anything. Instead she focused on not putting too much weight on Scribbles as they made their slow way back to the base.

"What the hell happened?" demanded Snippy, jumping to his feet as Aderyn limped into the room with Scribbles and plopped down onto the couch.

"Mutants," she muttered, ire rising at the sight of the man.

Engie stood and wandered over, casting a wary glance at Scribbles, who wasn't paying attention at all. She was staring off into space with her arms crossed, leaning against the arm of the sofa.

"Okay," said the orange-clad man. "Aderyn. I need to take a look at your leg. Can you lie on your stomach?"

"I guess," she muttered, stretching out on the couch. She flinched as Engie's deft fingers rolled up her pant leg with a few efficient movements. He drew in a sharp breath, and Snippy peered over to look at the wound, his brow tilting in worry.

"It's—it's not too bad," said Engie tightly.

"What is zis?" came the loud voice of the Captain as he strode over with a flourish, black overcoat billowing around his ankles. "Ms. Epee, your leg! I need mein minions to be in tippy-top shape in order to perform my delicious duties!"

From partial embarrassment, partial frustration and partial pain, Aderyn groaned and hid her face in her hands as Engie started to clean the wound.

"Of course, Captain," said Scribbles softly. Aderyn peered through her fingers to look up at the other girl. She bit her lip as she noticed that some of the clarity was vanishing from her eyes behind the aviator goggles. Her gaze was unfocussed, and she looked a little vague and helpless. Her arms were wrapped tightly around Thing, hugging it close to her.

Aderyn sighed and rested her chin on her hands as Engie bandaged up her leg.

Scribbles felt happy again. She was glad for that, because earlier she had felt angry and upset. She didn't remember why, but she had a hazy idea that it was Aderyn's fault. Why would she be mad at Aderyn? Aderyn was her best friend, next to Thing, of course.

She was building a tiny house for Thing out of little sticks and things that she could find. She knew that Thing wouldn't like to live there, but it would be a nice little fort that they could play in. Or _he_ could play in it. Scribbles was way too big.

She heard the crunching of snow behind her and she turned to see what it was. Her face split into a wide, cheery grin, and she waved. "Hi, Aderyn!"

"Hey," the black-haired girl muttered as she took a seat on an overturned box. She held herself a little stiffly, but Scribbles continued to fiddle with her fort.

"How're you doing?" she asked, restacking the twigs into a teepee shape.

Aderyn raised an eyebrow. "Um . . . I had my leg clawed by a mutant today . . ."

"So . . . not good?" she asked, pushing Thing inside the little house.

She exhaled. "No. Not good."

"Too bad," she said, sticking a tiny splinter on the top of the house as a little flag. "Yay! I built this house in the name of Captainia!"

Aderyn rolled her eyes. "Great."

"I'd build a bigger one," she said, flopping down onto her stomach and propping her chin up in her hands. "But, you know . . . I'm not strong enough. Plus it would have to be big to hold all seven of us."

Aderyn tilted her head, black hair falling in front of her goggles. "Seven?"

"Me, you, Snippy, Pilot, Captain and that Engie guy. Right?" She looked at Thing. "No offense, Thing, but you don't take up much room."

"I think you mean six," said Aderyn.

"Oh," she said, confusion taking hold in her face. "You're right. Six."

Aderyn sighed and raked her fingers through her hair. "This has been the longest few days of my life."

"How so?" asked Scribbles, the spark returning to her eyes. "They seem the same length as any other day. Hours don't really vary except for when the northern hemisphere is titled away from the sun—or towards it, for that matter. Not that you can really _see_ the sun anymore . . ."

Aderyn chuckled in spite of the exasperation that she seemed to be permanently wallowing in around this girl. "No, it's a figure of speech. It just means that a lot of stuff has happened."

"Oh. Like what?"

"Meeting you," she said, taking out her sword to polish it.

"Yay!" Scribbles said, clapping her hands. "Sounds fun!"

"Also joining up with the rest of these nutjobs," said Aderyn, realizing too late what she'd said. She froze and glanced at Scribbles, who had gone still.

"What do you mean "the rest of"?" she asked quietly. "Are you implying that I'm crazy?"

Aderyn stiffened.

"I'm not crazy!" Scribbles yelled, jumping up. "Why are you being so mean?"

Aderyn held her hands up. "Calm down. I wasn't trying to insult."

Scribbles visibly relaxed at that, sitting back down. "Okay. You're forgiven."

Aderyn breathed a silent sigh of relief. She knew that despite Scribbles' generally harmless appearance, she could really pack a punch when it came down to it, and with her leg hurt, if things really came down to blows, she wouldn't have a chance.

Footsteps tapped behind her and she deliberately directed her gaze at the sky. She knew who this was.

"Swordsgirl. It's time to eat."

"Hm," she grunted noncommittally, slipping her epee back into its sheath. Snippy brushed past her and said, "Hey, Scribbles, we've got some food."

Her head snapped up. "Food? Awesome! I haven't eaten since _yesterday!_" She paused. "Or was it the day before?"

Snippy smiled a little behind his mask. "Yeah. But we're eating a little into our backup supply because we couldn't find any food today."

"Yeah," said Aderyn. "That was your fault, Snipster."

Snippy turned around and shot a glare at Aderyn. "First of all, my name is _Snippy_, and secondly, _excuse me?_" he said indignantly. "It's _my_ fault? How is this _my_ fault?"

"You attracted them with your clanging and banging, _Snipster_," she snapped. "Then you broke your damn arm and I had to help you back here. When I got mauled, at least I made it back _by myself_."

"Oh, really?" he asked, his good hand on his hip. "What were you doing back at the dump, huh?"

"Supplies," she said, touching her pocket subconsciously.

"Uh-huh . . ." he said slowly. "So tell me, did you actually manage to _get_ anything on this wildly dangerous and stupid expedition?"

She didn't answer. Aside from the faint howl of the wind, only the sound of her teeth grinding together filled the silence.

"Thought so," said Snippy after a few moments. "That's very careless of you."

"_Careless?_" Aderyn spat, eyes flashing behind the ski goggles. "How was I being careless? My freaking _leg_ almost got torn off!"

Now he was angry too. "That's exactly my point!" he snapped, leaning down. She jerked as though she'd gotten an electric shock as his hand pressed down onto her thigh, then grabbed onto his sore arm as retaliation. He kept his expression impassive even as pain ripped up his arm and into his shoulder, shooting lances of it.

"You," he breathed in a low tone, "were being careless and cocky." Venom laced his every word. "Did you ever consider, for even a second, that you could have _led them here?_"

Scribbles whimpered a little and clung to Thing. Snippy was even scarier when he talked in that quiet voice. She almost preferred it when they yelled at each other. What was even more scary was what he was saying—that mutants might come here, to their one safe haven in the midst of all this destruction. She reassured herself that Captain would protect them with his awesomeness.

"I'm not so stupid as to lead them here, _Snipster_," Aderyn growled in that same muted tone. "I killed it before it could follow. Stop being such a goddamn worrywart."

"My name is _not Snipster!_" he snarled.

"Okay, 'not Snipster'," she said with a poisonous smirk.

Snippy gave her one last glare before relaxing his grip on her leg, yanking his arm out of Aderyn's grasp with a quick jerk. "Okay. Fine. What's that green stuff you have all over you?"

Aderyn looked down, realizing that she was still covered in mutant blood. She made a disgusted face. "Just a little proof of the fact that I _did_ kill that mutant . . . Snipster."

He groaned and rubbed his forehead. "Okay. Whatever. Fine. Just . . . you two should probably come in and eat, since we need our strength for tomorrow. Besides, it's getting dark."

Scribbles looked around and noticed for the first time that she could hardly see her hands. Her goggles were tinted orange—her favourite colour, since it was fun and cheery—so everything always looked bright. She liked it that way.

She jumped up and started to follow Snippy inside, Thing tucked snugly under her arm. She paused when Aderyn didn't follow them, and stuck her head back outside to see her struggling to stand.

"Do you want some help?" she called.

"Shh," hissed Aderyn, waving a hand at her. Off-balance, she stumbled a little and grabbed onto the wall of the base. "Are you trying to wake up all the mutants?"

"Sorry," she said in an only slightly reduced voice. "But . . . do you want help?"

Aderyn shook her head. "I'm fine."

Scribbles watched her limp inside and pause in front of the stairs. She gripped the railing, heaving herself up onto the first step with an effort, a muttered curse coming to Scribbles' ears.

"Are you _sure?_" she asked.

Aderyn frowned stubbornly. "Yes! Just leave me alone!"

Scribbles sighed and trotted up the stairs past her, stopping at the top and looking down at her one last time before heading into the room where the food was.

A fire had been started in a barrel that Pilot and Captain had rolled in (initially their plan had been to stuff Snippy inside, but Snippy had managed to change their minds with a quick smack to the cranium). Snippy was clumsily trying to open a can with one hand, and he eventually surrendered it to Gromov, who opened it for him. Pilot had his mask off, revealing him to be a young man with platinum blonde hair and childlike proportions, and was chewing with gusto. The Captain was standing in the corner, looking out the window with his back to the group—most likely contemplating thoughts so deep no other person could understand them. Well, Scribbles and Pilot had a pretty good shot.

Snippy pulled off his mask and goggles, setting them down on the table, then picked up his fork and began the arduous task of eating Spam luncheon meat with his non-dominant hand. His black hair peeked out from under his hood, and his cyan eyes were narrowed in concentration as he struggled not to drop the luncheon meat.

Engie shook his head, pulled back his hood, took off his mask and cracked open a can of beans for himself. His brown hair was parted in the middle, and his cheekbones were unusually pronounced, noticeable even with his goggles still on.

Pilot beamed when he saw Scribbles. "Want some?" he asked, holding up his canned food.

She grinned back. "Sure!" She hopped over, plopped down on a chair, pulled off her cap, pushed her goggles up onto her forehead, took off her mask and dropped it onto her backpack beside her, and held her hands out to Engie. "Food!"

He blinked and passed her an open can with a fork. "Here."

"Thanks!" she said, stabbing her fork into the food and shovelling it into her mouth hungrily.

Pilot's smile grew as he mirrored her.

"Ugh . . ." Aderyn limped into the room and sighed, leaning against the damaged wall. "Made it," she growled to no one in particular. "Lousy stupid goddamn stairs."

Relenting, Snippy held out an open can with a spoon inside. "You want some grub?"

She walked over and grabbed it, giving him a single nod of appreciation. She sat down in a chair next to Scribbles, pulled off her mask and took a bite of mushroom stew.

Scribbles tilted the can up and swallowed the remainder of her food. She shoved the can at Engie. "All done! More please!"

Pilot pushed his can into Engie's face. "Me too!"

Engie looked at her, eyes narrowed, as he took the can from her. "That's all you can have."

Their faces fell.

"Aww. Okay." Scribbles crossed her legs on her chair, propped her chin up with her hands and stared into the fire, mesmerized, while Pilot pulled out a toy airplane and started making little sputtering noises, guiding the craft through the air.

Glancing towards Scribbles, Aderyn recognized that look. "Don't touch it," she snapped.

"Okay . . ." Scribbles said dreamily, obviously not paying attention in the slightest.

Aderyn sighed and shook her head, rummaging in the can with her spoon. "Fine. Whatever. Just don't stick your fingers in it. The last thing we need is for you to get injured, too."

"Mm-hmm . . ."

Since she was famished, Aderyn quickly finished the slimy stew, dropping the can on the floor next to her with a hollow clatter.

"Ahem."

She shot Snippy a look. "What?"

He coughed lightly. "Um, I was just thinking . . . well. . . you two _are_ the first females we've seen since the fallout. So I was wondering if—"

Aderyn crossed her arms and leaned back, scooting her chair away from him. "Don't even finish that statement."

"But—"

"Listen to yourself," she snapped. She pointed at Scribbles, who was reaching for the fire again. "Now look at her. Just take a minute and observe."

Snippy looked at her, then back at Aderyn, whose fingers were creeping towards the grip of her sword.

"Point taken," he mumbled, poking at his canned spaghetti. He raised his gaze slightly. "But . . ."

Aderyn stared him down, daring him to continue.

He coughed again, eyes sliding to the side. "It's just that . . . unless we come across some other females who are willing to—"

"Hell no." She shook her head adamantly, jagged black bangs falling in front of her eyes. "No way. We are _not_ having this conversation."

"It might be essential to the survival of the human race!" He was getting annoyed again. "Why are you being so stubborn?"

"Screw this." Aderyn stood up and grabbed her goggles and mask, chair scraping across the floor, and nearly fell over before she caught herself. "Screw this," she repeated to cover up for her mistake.

"That's what we're discussing!" snapped Snippy before he could halt the words.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment he was sure she was going to stab him then and there, but after a moment, she whirled around and stormed out with a snarl—at least, tried to storm out. It wasn't as impressive as she would've liked, what with her limp. She still managed to look enraged, even from the back, but as she turned and began her descent down the stairs, Snippy spotted a flush creeping across her cheeks.

"Hmm?" Scribbles looked up. "What's going on?" She frowned, head cocking to the side. "Are you two fighting again?"

He exhaled heavily, his own face red. "No. Not exactly."

"Good," she said, stern, and turned her attention elsewhere. Snippy leaned back and stared at the ceiling, listening as Aderyn's uneven footsteps died out below them.

"Damn," he murmured into the air. The girl, annoying and cynical as she could be, had a point. Those two were only teenagers—just _kids_. There was no way they could force something like that onto them. But in the end, if there really was no other choice—

He shook his head. No. They could put that off until much later if they needed to.

There was a crash from behind him and he heard a shriek, followed by maniacal laughter. "Stop! That's my mask, you shoe! Give it back!"

"No, _you're_ a shoe!" yelled Pilot as he bounded away with Scribbles in pursuit. Snippy groaned and got to his feet. _Jeez. No time for this now_. He headed after the two, grumbling to himself and thinking: _If we can even survive each other long enough, it'll be a goddamn miracle_.

**(A/N: Wooooo! We've just beaten 100 pages! :D Well, maybe a little less, what with double spacing and all. . . Bleh. We DEFINITELY have more than 25 000 words though, so AWESOME! Many thanks to Amy who gave me an epic ending for this chapter and is my awesome editor. She also writes all the even numbered chapters. Her DA is here: )**


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